Choices
by AnziPanzi
Summary: Jazz and Prowl hate each other. That's common knowledge. But when a single encounter produces unexpected results, both mechs will have to make choices that will change their lives. They might even find that these choices aren't as completely awful as they might at first have thought. J x P. Mpreg. Slash
1. Chapter 1

**So, new story! I'm not sure how this one will work out, but I guess we'll see :) Warnings for slash, interfacing (non-graphic), Mpreg..**

**Um... yeah. So.. Leave a review and tell me what you think and whether I should continue, if you can! **

Jazz stormed down the halls, heading straight for the Head Tactician's office. In his clenched fist, a cracked datapad looked as though it were about to snap in half.

He had had enough. The new plan Prowl had improvised was suicide for Jazz and his team to even _attempt_: if everything went right, there was still only a 46% of everyone making it out alive!

If there was one mech on the Autobot force that could successfully drive the normally friendly and cheerful saboteur completely up the wall, it was Prowl. But then, a lot of mechs hated Prowl; it was Jazz's opinion that the SIC brought it upon himself. If he showed even a little bit of emotion after losing soldiers and friends, maybe people would stop claiming that the Praxian sent the mechs to their deaths knowingly.

When he reached the door to Prowl's office, the saboteur didn't knock. He simply hacked the door and barged in. "Wha' the frag is this?!" He yelled, waving the cracked datapad over his head before firing it in the direction of Prowl's desk.

The tactician hadn't even looked surprised at the intrusion; a resigned expression flitted across his face and settled there. "Jazz. Do not throw things at me. It is directly against protocol-"

"SHUT UP!" The TIC roared, glaring daggers at his superior officer from behind his visor. "Why are ya tryin' ta murder all o' mah mechs?!"

Easily working out that his plan had been rejected, Prowl shuttered his optics momentarily in annoyance. "It is the only plan with such a high percentage of success. The other scenarios were far too much of a risk-"

"At least 33% o' mah team would be killed if we went through wit' it!"

"Yes, I realise that-"

"And yet ya still want us ta do it?! For frag's sake, are ya really as sparkless as they say?!"

"Your emotional reaction is understandable, but needs to be controlled."

Jazz roared in a mixture of fury and frustration, and launched himself across the room at the tactician. A growl of surprise left the larger mech's vocaliser when he was pulled off his chair and tackled to the ground. "Do ya feel any regret at all?! Do ya feel anything when the mechs ya send out never come back?! What the frag is wrong wit' ya?! Do ya even _care_?" Jazz pushed down on black and white throat cables as he straddled the larger mech's waist.

The tactician's patience seemed to snap, and his lips curled back in a snarl. "Of course I care! I care an inordinate amount! But I cannot let my emotions rule my judgement, particularly during wartime! If I did that, we would have lost the war long ago!"

"This is why ya don't have friends!" The frustrated roar was accompanied by Jazz clenching his hands on the SIC's shoulder struts, leaving dents.

"Of course it is!" Suddenly, Prowl was rolling, throwing Jazz off of him. "Did you think I _enjoyed_ being isolated and hated?" Irritated, he turned to his desk and took his seat again. "Get out. I am not revising the plan. There is nothing I can do."

But Jazz's seemingly one-track mind had caught a hold of something and held it. "Does tha' mean ya haven't been close ta anyone since before the war?"

"Yes." Came the stiff reply.

"Wha' abou' your brother?"

"Smokescreen and I do not communicate much. It is safer that way, as I am at a high-risk for being a potential target to the Decepticons. Now leave."

"And.. Ya haven't been _intimate_ wit' anyone since b'fore the war?"

Slowly, the tactician raised his head from his datapad and glared balefully at the smaller black and white mech. "_Get_. _Out_."

But Jazz wasn't going anywhere. Not after a revelation like that. Uptight Prowl hadn't gotten laid since before the war. Not surprising, yet somehow it was still _surprising_. "Maybe tha's why yo' such an afthole."

"I will ask you one more time to leave before I forcefully remove you from my office myself."

"What if there was _other_ physical activities ya could be doin' ta meh that didn't involve throwin' meh out of yo' office?"

"You hate me." The tactician reminded him in a deadpan. "Interfacing is hardly-"

"Shhh." Rolling his optics behind his visor, Jazz straddled the Praxian in his chair. "Ever heard o' hate-fraggin'?"

"I believe I have heard it mentioned." The words were stiff, almost tense as the smaller black and white began mouthing at his neck cables. "But it is a waste of time and I should be working-"

"Shift ended half an hour ago, shut up." Jazz bit down harshly on the neck cables he had been mouthing.

A grin crossed the handsome saboteur's face when the Praxian hissed in pain. "I do not interface casually-"

"Well, it's fun. Now how about ya shut the frag up?"

"No." He continued to push at Jazz.

Frustrated, the saboteur glared down at the mech he was sitting on. He was angry, and when he was angry, he needed a way to distract himself before he killed something. This seemed like a good distraction, if only the fragger would stop resisting. "How 'bout this; frag meh, and Ah won't complain 'bout that plan again."

"Jazz-"

"And Ah'll try ta prevent the twins from pullin' as many pranks as possible."

That caught him, judging by the glint in Prowl's optics. "For the next month."

"Deal." There was a long pause as Prowl simply looked uncertainly up at him. Suddenly, it occurred to Jazz that the SIC didn't know what to _do_. Barely preventing a nasty laugh from escaping, Jazz rolled his optics and began grinding down on the stoic mech's crotchplate. His grin widened when white hands grabbed his hips and tightened enough to leave dents. Prowl gritted his dental plates together, and shot a glare up at the saboteur. "I still do not understand any benefit to you from doing this."

"Mech, yo' sendin' mah mechs out ta die. Ya could prob'ly stop complainin' 'bout mah motives now."

"So you wish to prove a point." Prowl scowled, but his mouth opened in a little gasp as Jazz ground down particularly hard on his interface panel.

"O' course." The sultry murmur elicited a shiver from the stiff tactician, causing Jazz to grin even wider. His grin faded, however, as he continued speaking. "Yo' sendin' mah mechs out ta die. Ya ain't even showin' a li'l bit of emotion. So, Ah wanna make sure ya have some."

"Some.. what?" The SIC eyed the saboteur warily.

"Emotions, mech."

A groan, almost inaudible, escaped the stoic tactician as Jazz licked and suckled and bit at his neck cables and ground down on his crotch-plating. "I have emotions, Jazz.." The sentence began sounding angry, but trailed off with a soft moan.

"Moan mah name again." The saboteur snickered, delivering another punishing bite to black throat cables.

A snarl flashed across the Praxian's faceplates and, faster than even Jazz could comprehend, Prowl had grabbed the slim mech by the waist and slammed him down on his desk. "Do not mock me."

A smirk blossomed and grew across the saboteur's face. "Why, does it bother ya?" The smirk was wiped off his face as quickly as it had appeared. "Do ya know wha' bothers meh? Mah mechs bein' killed."

An inarticulately furious growl rumbled from Prowl's engine as he pressed against the saboteur. Jazz simply threw his head back and moaned as the vibrations from the larger mech's powerful engine travelled up through his frame. "Do you not think that bothers me also? I do not _wish_ them to die! If there was any other way-"

Unwilling to hear whatever excuse the tactician was surely going to throw his way, Jazz grabbed the taller mech's face and kissed him violently. He bit down on the other mech's lower lip component so hard he tasted energon, then laughed meanly.

Snarling, Prowl pushed him down fully on the desk. The saboteur sneered at him, wrapping his slim legs around the Praxian's waist and pulling him closer. "Ya gonna shut up and frag meh already?"

"I do not like being pressured."

That earned a laugh from the mech being pressed into the desk. "Mech, you're kiddin'. Primus, ya really _do_ need a good frag."

"And you think that you are the best person for that job?"

Jazz narrowed his optics behind his visor, clearly picking up on the thinly veiled scepticism in his tone. "Are ya doubtin' mah abilities?"

"You have yet to convince me of anything."

"Ya have yet ta _do_ anything! Yo' sendin' mah mech's out ta die, ya could at least-"

Another angry snarl ripped out of the tactician's vocaliser, interrupting Jazz mid-sentence. "I already told you, it is not my wish nor my intention to offline the mechs on your team, but this is war. If there was any other way-"

"Ah don't wanna talk 'bout this right now." Was all Jazz snarled back, grinding again. "Make meh forget."

And it seemed that Prowl wanted to forget too, because he leaned down with no further argument to roughly capture the smaller mech's lips with his own.

...

"So, who was it?"

Jazz jerked in surprise, and then winced as a sharp ache shot up through his valve. He glanced once at Blaster, before turning his attention back to the monitors he was meant to be watching. "Wha' do ya mean?"

"Who fragged ya so hard ya so hard ya can't even sit right on yo' chair?"

"No one." The protest came quickly. Too quickly.

"So ya did it to yourself? Kinky."

"Shut up!"

The communications officer took the growled warning with ease, grinning as he settled back into his chair. "Just sayin'. Ah haven't seen ya look that happy with yourself in a long time."

"Hmph." Deciding to simply not reply, Jazz turned his attention back to the monitor he was studying. He had slyly installed a camera in Prowl's office, and he was watching the tactician intently from his console.

Peering around his friends shoulders, Blaster raised an optic ridge at the display on the monitor. "Prowl lecturin' the twins again? Why are ya listenin' to _that_?"

"Shh!" The saboteur flapped a hand irritably at him, listening to the audio feed that was being streamed directly to his processor. The not-so-beloved Second in Command was indeed treating the unfortunate frontliner twins to an extremely long-winding lecture about why it was strictly against protocol to stuff Ironhide's prize photon blasters with glitter.

_'-you know perfectly well that pranks such as these potentially put people at risk. What if there had been a Decepticon attack and Ironhide attempted to defend himself only to find his guns only shot glitter?'_

The image caused the on-screen twins to crack up until they (mainly Sideswipe) were almost crying. _'Oh, oh Pimus!'_

Doorwings flared in irritation, and Jazz found his optics tracking the movement eagerly, remembering how expressive those extremities could be. And how sensitive. _'You seem incapable of grasping how serious the matter is-!'_

_'Hey, hey Prowl?_' Sideswipe cut the rant off as he leaned forwards in his chair. _'Do you have... bite marks on your neck?'_

A smirk spread across the TIC's face as he watched his fellow command officer flounder for a moment. _'I- what? No, of course not.'_

_'Holy slag. Did.. did you frag someone?_' The red frontliner's optics widened in shock. _'Holy SLAG! You DID! Who was it?!'_

_'Five orns of brig time and four orns of monitor duty._' Prowl decided, marking something in a datapad and fixedly avoiding looking at either of the twins.

_'But who was it?! C'mon, tell us!'_

_'You may leave now.'_

Jazz finally turned his attention away from the monitor, smirking. This was almost worth the ache in his valve. From the other monitor, Blaster eyed his friend up curiously. "So, when's yo' team goin' on that suicide mission you were complainin' about?"

"Oh, they ain't." The Head of Special Ops grinned comfortably.

"They... ain't?"

"Nope. Me and Prowl had a li'l discussion, and he eventually agreed that Ah was right."

"_Prowl_.. agreed that _YOU_ were right?"

"Yup." Jazz grinned. It was quite surprising how docile Prowl became after an overload. He was willing to agree to just about anything.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a little over a month since the incident with Prowl had happened, and both had gone out of their ways to avoid each other. When Jazz was expected to hand in a mission report, he made someone else (usually Blaster) deliver it for him. When they saw each other in the corridors, gazes were averted. Even their usual arguments and bickering was absent in regards to mission plans and officers meeting; but if anyone noticed, nothing was said. Despite feeling frequently drained and fatigued, the saboteur still found the energy to hide and dodge like a pro.

Late one night, Jazz jerked awake from his recharge abruptly. What had woken him became evident almost immediately - a sharp pain was shooting through his spark. He grunted and put his hands over his sparkchamber. "Frag." He struggled off his berth and to his feet, before staggering blindly to the door. As he fell into the corridor, clutching his chassis, all he could think of was getting to Ratchet.

Thankfully the corridors were empty, allowing Jazz to stumble through them without being waylaid by anyone. But naturally, his luck ran out as he collided with someone as he turned a corner. The only thing the saboteur registered was the black and white paint, so similar to his own, before his face collided with the larger mech's chestplates. Pain shot through his face and turned his vision temporarily white; his knee struts buckled, and he fell. Before Jazz could hit the ground, he was caught in strong arms. "Ugh.. Not you.." Jazz groaned, keeping his visor offlined.

Prowl stared at the smaller mech bemusedly. "What do you mean? Are you alright?"

"Ah'm fine, let meh up." With a weak push, Jazz struggled to his feet. A wince crossed his face as another pain shot through his spark.

Irritatingly observant, Prowl spoke up again. "You are in pain."

"No Ah'm not, go away."

"You are. Were you headed to Ratchet?"

"Yes." Jazz admitted through gritted denta. "Now let meh go."

Despite the demand, Prowl didn't loosen his hold on the saboteur, as if fearing he would fall without the support. "What is wrong?"

"There's an annoying fragger stopping meh from gettin' to a medic." Jazz hissed, still clutching his sparkchamber. "Now frag off!" To Jazz's increasing frustration, Prowl lifted Jazz off his feet in a bridal hold and began to carry him down the corridors. "The frag are ya doin'?! Put meh down!"

"You do not seem in much of a condition to walk." The tactician observed logically, ignoring the glare Jazz levelled his way. "My carrying you will be quicker." Silence fell as Jazz began sulking. After a moment, Prowl spoke again. "Are you still in pain?"

"Yes." The saboteur groaned, "Feels like someone sucker-punched my sparkcasing."

That earned him a worried look. Ailments of the spark could rarely be fixed, and were almost always permanently damaging. Instead of voicing these thoughts, Prowl only said "We are nearly at the medbay."

"Ratchet'll be rechargin'."

"I have commed him." Prowl told him calmly as they approached the medbay door. "He is inside."

"Let meh down so Ah can go in by mahself."

Prowl completely ignored him and carried him into the medbay, ignoring Ratchet's raised optic ridge. "Good morning, Ratchet." He said wryly.

The medic looked exhausted and angry at being woken up, but still vaguely amused at the sight of Jazz scowling in Prowl's arms. "Set him on the berth." He instructed. Prowl did so, and then stepped back. Ratchet shot him a look. "Leave."

After a brief hesitation, the SIC obeyed the medic's orders and retreated outside. Jazz stared fixedly at his hands, which were clenched against the pain, as Prowl left. "Hey, doc. Sorry t' have woken ya up."

"Shut up." Ratchet said grouchily, beginning to probe the black and white mech's chestplates. "Describe the pain to me."

"It is, uh.. painful." Jazz winced. "Sharp pain, I guess."

"And when did it-"

"Oh." Jazz said suddenly, straightening. The spark pain had vanished abruptly, accompanied with the feeling of something sinking from his spark. "It stopped."

"What stopped? The pain?" Ratchet asked, eyeing up his patient intently. "Is it gone completely? Show me your spark." Without deigning to reply, Jazz retracted his sparkcasing, baring his spark and bathing the medic in glowing blue light. Leaning in close, Ratchet examined the spark closely. After a length of time, he said "I was under the impression that you and Prowl detested each other."

"We do." Jazz said sharply, resisting the urge to tense up.

"He carried you in here." The medic observed calmly, finally leaning away. He waited for a reply, but Jazz said nothing. "Did you stay at his quarters for the night?"

Jazz jerked back, staring at the medic in horror. "No! Primus! Ah was tryin' ta get t' ya, and Ah ran into him in the corridors!"

"Hmm." Ratchet hummed thoughtfully. He tilted his head and gazed at Jazz's spark, "There looks to be an area of your spark tissue that is beginning to heal."

"Heal from what?" The saboteur asked warily, noticing how eerie Ratchet's calm was.

A freaky smile graced the white and red medic's face, reinforcing the impression that his calm was forced. "Something split away from it. Did you feel a sinking feeling when the pain stopped?"

"Yeah!" Jazz nodded, before leaning back uneasily. "How did you know that?"

The calm broke, and Ratchet slammed his hand down on the medical berth beside Jazz's leg. "FRAG IT!" He ignored his patients startled yelp, "Who was he?!"

"What?" Jazz asked, staring aghast at the medic. "What's wrong wit' yo'?!"

"Who was it that interfaced with you without their Spark Energy Modulator on? Th-" Ratchet broke off suddenly, optics narrowed. "There's only one mech at Iacon that doesn't HAVE a Spark Energy Modulator, and that's because he doesn't INTERFACE!"

Jazz stared at the furious medic with growing horror. "Spark Energy M-? What does tha' mean?"

At the question's clearly frightened tone, Ratchet forced himself to calm down. "It's the hardware that controls the amount of spark energy transferred to transfluid when a mech overloads. Most mechs have them, except for the ones that don't interface. And I can tell you for a fact, that only two Autobots don't have one; Ultra Magnus and Prowl. And it wasn't Ultra Magnus that carried you in here."

The saboteur was sitting as stiff as a board, staring at Ratchet. "Ah don't understand what yo' sayin'."

"I am saying," Ratchet growled irritably, "that you're sparked, congratulations! Afthole. Do you have any idea how much extra work you've just given me?"

There was no answer. Ratchet glanced at Jazz, abruptly concerned, but the saboteur was staring blankly ahead: he gave no sign of noticing anything in the room. Finally, he said "Ah don't want it."

"You don't want.. what?" Ratchet asked, feeling a sharp wave of trepidation.

"The sparklin'." Jazz looked down at his torso in sudden disgust. "Ah don't want it. Can ya get it out?"

The medic stared at his patient, "No. Not once it's split from your spark. The sinking feeling you felt earlier was the sparkling sinking down to your gestation chamber; it's going to be using your nanites to build a frame for itself."

Suddenly, Jazz looked angry. "Mah nanites? It's goin' t' deprive meh of mah own nanites?"

"Well, the other creator usually deposits a regular amount of transfluid, and that way the burden of donating all the coding isn't resting entirely on the carrier." Ratchet said calmly; it had been so long since a mech had been sparked during this infernal war, he couldn't help but nurture a spark of happiness and hope. "I have no doubt Prowl would be willing to-"

"No." Jazz interrupted sharply, his head jerking up to stare the medic in the optic. "Don't tell him 'bout any o' this."

"Jazz, you have to-"

"No, Ah don't!" Jazz clenched his fists angrily, "Ah'll decide when- if Ah tell him. Does other mechs' transfluid work?"

Ratchet frowned, clearly not happy with the saboteur's choice. "It does, but only if their Spark Energy Modulator is off. And it's very difficult to turn off; most mechs don't even know they have one. I can give you specially made energon with extra nanites, and that should ease the burden of giving them to the little one."

A small frown crossed Jazz's face, although it was mostly hidden by his visor. 'Little one'. It sounded strange. The saboteur had nothing against sparklings; he quite liked them, actually. But he had never wanted one of his own - well, he had, but he had imagined it when the war was over and he was bonded with someone. He didn't even LIKE Prowl. Plus, it had been so long since a 'bot had been sparked; Jazz couldn't even remember the last time he had seen a sparkling apart from the ones in the Youth Sectors. "Tell meh what the carryin' process thing entails."

Ratchet seemed relieved at the question - It seemed Jazz was willing to give this a chance. "Well, you've gone through one of the hardest parts already. Now that it's in your gestation chamber, it will grow its own frame. As that happens, your gestation chamber will expand to give the sparkling room - this will cause some swelling in the abdominal area-"

"Noticeable?" Jazz asked tensely.

"Yes." Ratchet admitted after a brief hesitation. "It will be rather prominent. I'm afraid you can't hide the entire process, Jazz. You will have to tell people."

"Ah'll wait 'till it becomes obvious, then." Jazz said stubbornly.

That earned an exhausted sigh. "Fine. But I would advise you to tell Prowl - he deserves to know he has a sparkling."

The saboteur snorted and looked away. "Ah'll tell him when Ah feel like it."

"Fine." The medic said irritably. "Go then, and come back later in the day - at a reasonable hour. I'll give you datapads to read over about the whole thing, and I'll get Wheeljack to engineer the nanite-rich energon."

"Thanks." Jazz muttered, jumping down off the berth desolately. "Talk to ya later, Ah guess." He wasted no time in getting to the door and darting out of the medbay.

But, as if to spite him, Prowl was still waiting outside the door. He raised an optic ridge when he saw the saboteur's depressed looking face. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, fine." Jazz snapped, whirling on his heel and stomping down the corridor. Within barely seconds, the sound of Prowl's quick footsteps were heard as he caught up to him.

"What was causing the pain?"

"Bad energon."

That earned another raised optic ridge. "Bad energon does not cause spark pain."

"Apparently, it's very rare. Now why are ya followin' meh?" Jazz shot a glare over his shoulder.

"Because it is my responsibility to ensure that you return to your quarters safely-"

"No, it isn't! Ah'm my own responsibility!" They were nearing Jazz's door now; in a few steps they would be outside it. "Ya just want t' get fragged again, is that it?"

Prowl stopped dead, staring at the shorter mech in horror. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, 'course ya do. That's why yo' bein' so nice t' meh. Ya do realise that last month was a one time thing, right?"

"Jazz, I am not trying to- Primus." Prowl put a hand to his forehelm in frustration. "I found you stumbling around complaining about spark pain! I took you to a medic, and you claim you're fine! I just want to make sure you get back to your quarters safely."

The saboteur clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, watching Prowl intently. "We don't like each other. Why would ya want meh t' return safely to mah quarters if ya don't want somethin' in return?"

"Of course I do not want anything in return, do not be absurd!"

But Jazz shook his helm. "Fine! C'mon in!" He gestured to his door.

"Jazz, I do not want-"

The saboteur stepped forwards so quickly that Prowl didn't have time to react, and kissed him. It wasn't a sweet kiss, and Jazz bit down on Prowl's lip to prevent the tactician from pulling away.

There was a moment of shock where Prowl simply froze. Then his senses hit him, and he grabbed Jazz by the waist and slammed him up against the wall. "Are you insane?" He hissed, pulling away from the saboteur's lips. "You said you hated me!"

"Ah do!" Jazz hissed back, "Now shut up!" He leaned up and grabbed the back of Prowl's helm, pulling him closer and practically sticking his glossa down the tactician's throat. After a few moments of Prowl still not responding, Jazz drew away with a glare. "What are ya doin'?"

"I could ask you the same question."

They glared at each other. "Ah'm agreein' t' frag ya, here."

"I already told you, that was not my intention in bringing you back to your quarters-"

"Well, it's mah intention t' get fragged now. If yo' don't wanna frag meh, Ah'll find someone who does."

There was total, tense silence as Prowl stared coldly at the mech pressed up against the wall in front of him. "This is not a good idea."

"No, it ain't." Jazz agreed, grabbing Prowl's head down to him again. Finally, the tactician reciprocated, his arms winding around Jazz's waist somewhat awkwardly. Eagerly, Jazz threw one of his legs over one of Prowl's hips struts. To prevent Jazz from having to lean all his weight on one leg, Prowl hitched both of the saboteur's slim legs around his waist and pressed his back further into the wall. "We.. should get... out of the... corridor." Jazz managed to say in between the heated and almost angry kisses. Prowl grunted, searching for the keypad of Jazz's door without lifting his head from the saboteur's lips. He entered his SIC override codes and stumbled through the door with Jazz in his arms. "Berth. Berth!" Jazz hissed impatiently, shifting his hips and grinding against Prowl's interface panel.

They both fell on the berth, with the tactician landing on top. Prowl broke the kiss and stared down at the smaller black and white. "Are you certain you wish to do this? Again?"

"Yes, frag meh!"

Prowl leaned down to kiss him again.

…

Jazz onlined to a comfortable warmth pressing into his back, and subconsciously moved closer to it. With a quiet groan, Jazz turned onto his other side and onlined his optics behind his visor; the first sight to greet his optics was Prowl, recharging beside him. After a moment, he moved his legs and winced - he was lying in a pool of dried lubricant and transfluid, and his valve hurt like slag. Again. "Ugh.." He glanced beside him at Prowl, before sitting up and shaking him. "Hey. Wake the frag up."

The tactician's optics flickered as they rebooted, and then they focused on Jazz's face. "Jazz-?"

"Ya need t' go."

"I'm sorry?" Frowning blearily, Prowl sat up in the berth and stared at the saboteur.

Rubbing his helm tiredly, Jazz said "Ya need t' go. Just leave."

"What is wrong?"

"Nothin'! Ah just want ya t' go!" He snapped irritably, swinging his legs out of the berth and wincing as a dull ache shot up through his valve.

"You regret last night." Prowl guessed calmly, hiding his strange feeling of hurt. He hardly ever interfaced, so when he did he couldn't help forming an emotional attachment, no matter how illogical his processor told him it was. After all, this was Jazz. Jazz, who so frequently aggravated him with ridiculous demands and trifles, who frequently called him an emotionless fragger, who was the only 'bot who could get an emotional reaction out of him so easily. He hated Jazz! Well, maybe not hated. His emotions, which he found confusing anyway, were even more mixed up than usual.

"Of course Ah regret it!" Jazz snapped. "Ah regret the first time too!"

"Then why?" Frustrated, Prowl got out of the berth and faced the TIC. "Why would you interface with me again if you had regretted it the first time?" His frustration only grew when Jazz offered no explanation. "Jazz!"

"Ah don't know!" The saboteur exploded. "You're meant t' be an emotionless glitch! Ya ain't meant t' get attached!"

"I am not attached!" Prowl blurted out the denial before he could think.

"Good!"

"I simply wish to know why you are acting like this. YOU were the one who insisted on-"

"Ah know what happened!" Jazz hissed, his hand slipping to his abdomen automatically. "And it was a mistake! Please just leave."

A long moment passed, and Prowl remained stock still. Finally, he straightened and said stiffly, "If that is what you wish." He turned and headed for the door, Jazz watching him intently from behind. He left without saying another word.

The moment the door closed behind the tactician, Jazz groaned and put his head in his hands. "Frag." He muttered, collapsing on the berth. A disgusted expression crossed his face when he realised he had accidentally sat in the sticky evidence from the night before. He felt like crying, and screaming, and going on a rampage. He glared down at his abdomen, where he knew his gestation chamber was. "Hope you're happy wit' that fragger's transfluid, ya stupid li'l glitch." He sat on the edge of his berth for almost an hour before resigning himself to cleaning up before his shift with Blaster. The trip to the wash racks was short, and he mercifully didn't meet anyone on his trip there.

Once he had grabbed a stall, he slammed the button for the solvent and allowed it to wash over him. The wash racks didn't have stalls, as such; they were simply shower-heads with a chest-high partition separating them into stalls, allowing for easy socialisation while you washed. Jazz sighed underneath the torrent of soothing liquid; he could feel his tense struts relaxing, and the feel of sticky remnants on his legs washing off was amazing.

"Jazz!"

The saboteur glanced around, startled, to see Sideswipe entering the wash racks with a cheerful grin, his twin directly behind him. "Oh, hey guys. How's it goin'?"

"Not bad." Sideswipe shrugged, nabbing the stall next to Jazz. "Except we've got four orns of monitor duty. Four orns!"

A snort escaped from Jazz's vocaliser before he could stop it. "Yeah, Ah know. At least yo' brig time's over."

Sunstreaker frowned and regarded the saboteur curiously from his stall next to his twin. "How do you know about that?"

"Heard it around." Jazz said nonchalantly, trying to scrub at the remaining dried transfluid on his legs without the twins noticing.

"Huh. What do you have today?" Sideswipe asked, stretching.

"Communications duty." A groan accompanied his words. "Worst duty ever."

"Can't be much worse than monitor duty." Sideswipe said sullenly, glaring at the sponge he was using as if it had insulted his carrier. "But that starts tomorrow, thank Primus. We're going to Simfur, like, right now. We should be in the departure bay, but Sunny just had to get clean first-"

Jazz was beginning to get bored of the inane chatter; he was already passably clean, so he decided to get out of there. With a smile, he dismissed himself from the twins and exited the wash racks. Once he was out, his smile disappeared and was replaced with an exhausted expression as he trekked down the corridors to the communications deck.

...

Blaster was already there, sitting with his back turned to Jazz. Even with his back turned, he could sense that the saboteur was there, and he held up a cube of energon. Jazz took it gratefully, and downed it in a single gulp. "Thanks, mah mech. Dunno what Ah'd do wit'out ya."

"Ah don't either." The tape deck snorted, tapping away at his computer terminal. "Ya ready for an exciting day?"

"What kind o' excitin' day?" Jazz glanced at his friend suspiciously.

"Mm, 'pparently Optimus' leadin' a group o' mechs out to Simfur. A rumour's been heard that the Decepticon's are plannin' an ambush f'r today."

Jazz stilled at his own computer terminal. "Why aren't Ah goin'?"

The tape deck looked up, surprise written across his face. "You're on the list for medical leave. Ratchet put ya there this mornin'."

"What?!" Jazz shrieked. He whirled around and accessed the sick list on his computer terminal. Sure enough, his name was at the top. He stared at it for a very long moment, before straightening and turning to his friend with a clenched jaw. "Who all is goin'?"

Looking confused and a little uneasy at Jazz's outburst, Blaster pulled up a list of mechs. "Uh.. Prime, Wheeljack, Beachcomber, Ironhide, Mirage, Hound, Prowl, Cliffjumper, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker,-"

Jazz had stopped listening. At least there was no way of him bumping into the tactician around the place, now. "Do you have another cube?" He interrupted Blaster's monologue.

"Uh.. Sure." Frowning, the cassette holder handed his friend the cube and watched him drink it. "You okay?"

"Yep. Just perfect." Jazz muttered, setting down the empty cube.

Blaster was obviously going to say more, but a transmission came through at that moment. ~Prowl to base, we are in position~. Jazz stiffened at the sound of his voice, and allowed Blaster to lean in and answer.

~Blaster here. Ya got there pretty quick.~

~Yes. There was no traffic, and the entire city seems suspiciously empty.~

~Noted. We'll keep an optic on the city and warn you of any incoming vehicles. You an' Ironhide'll be reportin' to terminal two~

Almost resigned, Jazz glanced at his terminal number. Terminal two. Of course. "Fantastic." He muttered, slumping in his seat.

Shooting his friend a sharp look, Blaster didn't say anything as Prowl spoke over the open comm. line. ~Thank you. Prowl out.~. Once the transmission was over, he turned to face his friend. "Alright, tell meh what the frag's wrong wit'ya. Yo' actin' weird, and you've been taken off duty on medical leave? Ya never get sick. Ah've never once seen ya wit' a virus. And you're actin' like yo' valve is all sore again. Didja 'face someone last night?"

The sulky silence was all the answer needed.

"Jazz." Blaster put his face in his hands. "Look, Ah don't know what to say or do with you anymore. Ya ain't tellin' meh anythin'."

"There's nothin' ta tell!" Jazz said, turning away. Before Blaster could say another word, a beeping sound had them both turning back to the monitors. "Frag." The saboteur hissed, turning on his comm. frequencies and tuning them to Ironhide and Prowl. ~Jazz here, Seekers incoming from the south!~

From beside him, Blaster was giving the same information to the mechs he was communicating with. Their conversation was totally forgotten as they both threw themselves into their work.

~We see them~ Prowl's voice came over the line, sounding grim. ~Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are going after the Command Trine. We see no sign of foot soldiers.~

Eyeing the map of Simfur on the monitor in front of him, Jazz frowned. ~There're heat signatures comin' from behind the buildin's on yo' right, and the ones behind ya~

~Sending team to check-~

~THEY'RE ATTACKING NOW~ Ironhide's voice bellowed over the line. The sheer contrast between the mad bellow and Prowl's cool tone caused Jazz to jump with surprise.

~Okay, okay. There're more comin' from the left, so mind your rear~ Jazz spoke as calmly as he could. He could feel a sick feeling rising through him, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with the worry he was feeling for his comrades in battle. ~Ironhide, Ah said cover yo' left flank!~

From the other side of the room, Blaster was speaking rapidly to Mirage and Optimus, advising them where the weak spots of the other side were.

~Cliffjumper has been hurt~ Prowl announced over the line. ~Ironhide is taking him back behind the lines to First Aid.~

~Yeah.. 'Kay.~ Jazz was feeling woozy now; his tanks were roiling, and he felt as though he was going to purge.

~Jazz? Are you okay? I need you to focus. This isn't about last night, is it?~ He added the last part over an encrypted frequency.

The saboteur blinked, before scowling at the communicator in front of him. ~Ah'm fine. More 'Cons comin' from the right.~

~We're driving them back~

The sick feeling suddenly became to much. ~Frag~ Jazz murmured, forgetting the communicator was on. He fell out of his chair, and abruptly purged his tanks all over the floor. The half digested energon bubbled slightly, glowing blue.

"Jazz?" Blaster looked around, shock and concern etched onto his face.

"Ah'm fine." Jazz said weakly, wiping his mouth. "Pay attention to yo' comm."

~Jazz? What happened?~ Prowl's voice came over the still open line; his frown was almost audible. ~Hello? Are you alright?~

~Ah'm fine.~ Jazz stood up on wobbly legs and collapsed back on his chair. ~Seekers circlin' ahead~

~Yes, the Twins are practising their Jet Judo. You do not sound fine~

The saboteur shot a glare at the communicator, as though he could see Prowl through it. ~Well, Ah am. Ah just.. dropped somethin'.~

~Would that something be the contents of your tanks?~

~Shut up and pay attention to the battle, glitch.~

~Stop being annoying and call Ratchet.~

~Ah'm FINE. How 'bout ya fight Decepticreeps instead o' worryin' 'bout meh?~

~I am not worried about you.~ the tactician snapped down the line. ~But you should have the purged energon cleaned up before Ratchet finds you.~

"Will ya frag off?! Ah didn't purge!" Jazz yelled out loud as well as over the comm. lines, earning himself a curious/exasperated look from Blaster.

~The sound of a mech purging his tanks is almost unmistakeable, and that accompanied by the tone of your voice, which sounds significantly weaker than before, suggests you did~

~Stop bein' a pompous fragger~

~Stop being an irritatingly stubborn aft~

~Slagger~

~Glitch~

~Just pay attention t' the battle!~ Jazz yelled down the comm. line.

~I was, unlike you. The battle is over. The Decepticons retreated~

Jazz glanced over at Blaster, who was turning his communicator off. He hadn't even heard the announcement for the end of the battle.

~Clean up the purged energon~ with that, Prowl shut off the comm. line.

There was silence, during which Jazz wanted to scream with frustration. Instead, he got to his feet and pulled a polishing cloth out of his subspace, before beginning to clean up the purged energon on the floor. He didn't do it quietly, of course; he muttered and cursed the whole time. Barely moments later, Blaster took the cloth from him and shook his head. "Ah'll clean it up. Go ta Ratchet."

"No, I-"

"Go." The cassette deck repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

After a brief hesitation, Jazz sighed and followed his friend's order. As he walked down the corridors, he couldn't help but rest his hands on his abdomen. What if something was going wrong with the sparkling? Not that he cared about the sparkling or anything; he just didn't want to walk around with a corpse inside him. Feeling panicky now, he almost ran the rest of the way to the medbay. "Ratchet?" He yelled, skidding into the room. The medic turned from where he was looking over patient files and stared in surprise. "Ah think it's dyin'!"

Ratchet's optics widened. "What?"

"Ya said that transfluid would be good, so Ah got that, but Ah just purged everywhere so Ah think somethin's goin' wrong-" Jazz couldn't stop the flood of words as they fell from his mouth.

Barely resisting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, Ratchet raised his hands placatingly. "Calm down. Everything is fine. Purging is actually natural. It's just getting rid of all the toxins in the energon that the sparkling can't absorb. It'll usually happen quite a lot in the first few vorns, so you might want to keep a bin handy." He snorted. "The purging will stop when the sparkling is able to absorb the minerals itself. So, you got transfluid?"

Jazz didn't answer for a moment, busy taking in the new information. "Yeah." He said at last.

"From Prowl, or someone else?"

"Does that matter?" The saboteur glared, unconsciously crossing his arms over his abdomen.

"Yes." Ratchet said mildly. "I need to know for medical reasons."

"Medical reasons mah aft." Jazz mumbled, glowering. "It wasn't someone else."

"Prowl then." Ratchet raised optic ridge and wrote something down on a datapad. "Interesting. And do you plan on getting regular deposits of transfluid from him?"

"No, Ah do not." Jazz growled through gritted denta. "It was a one time thing."

"Apart from the time he actually got you sparked, of course."

"Ratchet-"

The medic waved off Jazz's dangerous tone. "Okay, okay. No regular deposits. It would be good for the sparkling, though."

"Ah don't care. Ah ain't keepin' it."

That caused Ratchet to look up sharply. "What do you mean you're not keeping it?"

"Ah told ya already, Ah don't want it!" Jazz hissed in frustration. "Ah'm gonna give it to an orphanage, or a youth sector or somethin'. At least that way, it'll have parents that want it!"

"Jazz.. You should at least wait until the birthing to decide. This is a big decision. And saying that it'll have parents that want it is unfair, as you haven't even told Prowl yet."

The black and white mech turned his head, scowling. "Ah just don't want this thing to mess up mah life."

"Well, it's part of your life now. So deal with it." Ratchet said harshly, causing Jazz to wince. His voice softened substantially. "I know it's frightening, but you are dealing with it fantastically so far, even if it's only been a day since you found out. And I know you and Prowl aren't the best of friends, but there's obviously something there if you've interfaced twice."

A snort exploded from the saboteur. "Please! He hates meh!"

"Clearly not." Ratchet eyed his abdomen pointedly, "If he did, I dare say we wouldn't be in this position."

"Ever heard of hate fragging?" Jazz demanded, covering his abdomen with his hands as if to shield it from Ratchet's gaze.

"I have. But the thing about Prowl is that emotions don't exactly come naturally to him; when they do, they're strong. I think he'd be totally incapable of interfacing with someone and not forming an emotional attachment to them."

"Ah have ta go." Jazz blurted. He couldn't stand here and listen to this. He needed to lie down and forget about everything.

Ratchet watched him leave in silence.

**The Spark Energy Modulator isn't my invention, but I can't for the life of me remember who came up with it. Credit goes to them, anyway. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you everyone for your interest in this story! I'm glad you like it so far. I think I will continue and see where the storyline takes me :3**

Jazz sipped slowly at the nanite-rich energon in his hand, unwilling to drink it any faster lest he purge everywhere. Again. The rec. room was busy, and Autobots sat in groups together, laughing and chatting. The atmosphere was infectious and happy, and it was almost possible to forget there was a war going on.

"You look deep in thought."

Jazz glanced up to see Mirage delicately sitting down next to him. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, guess Ah am." The noblemech nodded, and didn't press any further. That was what Jazz liked about Mirage; he minded his own business. "So, how're ya doin'?"

"I am well." Mirage nodded, taking a sip of refined highgrade. "And yourself?"

"Ah'm.. fine."

If the spy noticed the hesitation, he didn't let on. "Good. I imagine you have been busy lately."

"No, actually." Jazz sighed, leaning back on the couch. "Um.. Ah got a virus, an' Ratchet took meh off duty f'r a while."

"Oh." Mirage tilted his head and frowned slightly. "Get well soon."

"Thanks." The saboteur muttered. He knew it wouldn't simply be so easy as 'getting well', but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. "By the way, Hound's starin' at ya."

The noble stiffened almost imperceptibly. "What?"

"Yep. Has been since ya sat down." Jazz couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Why don't ya talk to him?"

Mirage shot him a look. "No, thank you."

"As your superior and Head of Special Ops, I order ya to go talk to Hound."

A shocked silence followed as Mirage stared. "You have to be joking."

"Ah'm not." Jazz said calmly. "Off ya pop. You'll thank meh later."

"I am not interested in him."

"Why? 'Cause he ain't nobility?" Jazz demanded. "Ah ain't nobility, but ya get along well enough wit' meh."

"You are my _superior_!" Mirage hissed like an angry cybercat. "I _have_ to get along with you!"

"Hound's a great mech, y'know. Just give him a chance!"

"This is blackmail."

"Ah know. Ah just don' care. Go talk to him." For a brief moment, Jazz actually thought the blue and white spy was going to punch him. Instead, Mirage stood and stalked towards Hound, who watched his approach with an expression of mixed surprise and trepidation.

The saboteur grinned and swung his legs up comfortably on the couch, taking another sip of his energon. He shifted slightly, the armour around his abdomen feeling awkwardly tight. Glancing around, he searched for someone to talk to.

And spotted Prowl in the corner, sipping a cube of low-grade and reading a datapad.

Feeling unexpectedly bold, Jazz swung himself back off the couch and made his way over to the tactician. He stopped right in front of the table Prowl was sitting at, but the Praxian didn't even notice him standing there. "Hi."

"Hm?" Prowl glanced up, and froze when he saw who was standing there. "Can I help you?"

"Ah wanna sit down."

There was a long silence as Prowl stared blankly at the saboteur. "What?"

"Ah. Want. To. _Sit_."

Finally, the tactician's processor caught up to him and he pulled the chair next to him. He watched blankly as Jazz plopped himself down in the chair and scowled at him. "Do you want something?" Prowl asked warily, clearly expecting the saboteur to start insulting him.

"Ah wanna sit here."

"Very well." Prowl returned to his datapad, but not before shooting him another curious look.

Several moments went past before Jazz got bored and spoke up again. "Whatcha doin'?"

Prowl paused. "I am looking over battle tactics and plans." His uncertainty was understandable; The last time he had spoken to Jazz, the saboteur had kicked him out after interfacing with him, and had been avoiding him since.

The blue of Jazz's visor dimmed as his optics narrowed. "Let meh see 'em."

"What?"

"Ah wanna look over 'em. Make sure they ain't incredibly stupid "

A scowl formed on Prowl's face. "That is not your job."

"Shut up and give me a datapad." Jazz ordered. He took the offered datapad with a nod and began examining it without hesitation. Prowl watched him as he nodded and hummed with an occasional frown. After he had finished reading over the plan, he set the datapad down. "It's a'ight, but it'd be better if the mechs in the back spread out more to defend the rear."

"And what would you do about the left defence?" Prowl asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Ah dunno. Ah'm a saboteur, not a tactician. Use yo' fancy battle computer."

The tactician rolled his optics and turned back to his datapads. He hadn't expected anything more from the smaller mech. They both remained silent, looking over their respective datapads. After a while, Prowl raised his head and noticed Jazz staring down at his own stomachplates. "Are you well?"

The saboteur startled, his head shooting up. "Wha'? Yeah, 'course." He continued before Prowl could speak again. "Don't start actin' all concerned."

"I am concerned about all my comrades." Prowl said coolly, lowering his battle plans.

Jazz snorted. "Ya don't act like it."

"Just because I am concerned for them, does not been I need to form unnecessary emotional connections with them. We are in the middle of a war, and relationships will simply get in the way of efficient work."

"So ya have no emotional connections to anyone?"

"No, I do not believe so."

"Ratchet said otherwise." Jazz said calmly, lacing his hands over his abdomen. "He said ya can't help formin' an emotional connection t' people ya frag."

"Did he now?" The words were softly spoken, almost inaudible.

"Yeah. And besides tha', what 'bout Smokescreen? He's yo' brother, ain't he?"

"I cannot help the family bond." Prowl frowned slightly. "But I can close it enough so that if one of us is captured or injured, it will not cause the other pain."

"Tha's messed up." Jazz frowned.

"That is war." The tactician countered with a cool shrug. "There is no place for anything else."

"Do ya think so?" Jazz pondered thoughtfully. He briefly considered telling Prowl about the sparkling just to spite the mech, but decided against it; he wasn't that cruel. But still, he wondered... "So.. Ya never even _considered_ havin' a family?"

Prowl frowned and leaned back in his chair, regarding Jazz cautiously. "I don't believe that's any of your business, Jazz..."

"Humour meh."

"Why?"

"'Cause Ah'm sick?" Jazz tried. He noticed Prowl's dubious look and added, "Virus. Look it up, Ah'm on Ratchet's sick list." There was silence, and Prowl's optics dimmed as he looked up the sick list. "See? So humour meh."

"Very well." Prowl sighed, glancing around the room as if to check if anyone was listening. "Family was never something I had truly thought about, but something I had nevertheless hoped for eventually."

"Hm." Jazz glanced down at his abdomen and shrugged. "So ya ain't a cold sparked fragger like everyone says?

The tactician gazed coolly at his company. "I am sure that is for individuals to decide."

"Hm." Jazz hummed again, staring back at him. "So... Whattaya think 'bout sparklin's?" The question spilled from his lips before he could stop it.

"What?" Prowl shot him a curious look.

Cursing himself, the saboteur tried for a casual shrug. "Just a question."

"I... do not know. I have never been around one."

"What 'bout Smokescreen?" Jazz frowned.

That caused a teeny, almost imperceptible smile to tilt up the corners of Prowl's lips. "Ah yes, a common misconception. Smokescreen is my older brother."

Jazz froze, staring blankly at the SIC. "Yo' kiddin'. But ya seem... Ah mean.. What?"

A genuine laugh escaped Prowl before he could stop himself; it was short and quiet, but it caused the tactician's face to light up. "Yes, I know. It shocks everybody."

It was Jazz's turn to laugh, but his laugh was loud and animated. "Ya ain't as bad as Ah thought." He observed out loud.

A small snort came from Prowl. "Thank you, I suppose."

"Well, ya'd be better if ya stopped-"

"-killing your mechs, yes I know." Prowl interrupted, looking exhausted all of a sudden. "You have told me before, if I recall correctly."

Jazz fought the energon-blush that threatened to surface. "Yeah, Ah vaguely remember that. But that's not what Ah was gonna say."

"Oh?" Prowl raised an optic ridge, looking slightly amused.

"Yeah. Ah was gonna say ya'd be better if ya stopped bein' a rule obsessed stick-up-the-aft."

Another laugh burst from Prowl's vocaliser, louder this time. Loud enough, in fact, to cause several other 'bots in the rec. room to turn and stare in surprise. "I see. I jumped to the wrong conclusion, then."

"Yup." Jazz answered comfortably; he had forgotten completely about how he was meant to hate his colleague. "Ya never answered meh, by the way."

"About what?"

"Sparklin's."

"I believe I did."

"No. Ya said ya didn't know, but that ain't a proper answer."

Prowl sighed and shrugged. "I never particularly wanted any."

A sinking feeling originated in Jazz's spark, and he chided himself for being so ridiculous. After all, it wasn't like he was keeping the damn thing. "They say ya always change yo' mind after ya have one." He blinked. Why was he trying to convince Prowl about this?

"Who is 'they'?" Prowl asked wryly.

"People wit' sparklin's, Ah presume."

"Hm." The tactician shrugged. "Perhaps. Anyway, I believe I must get back to work."

Jazz frowned. "What've ya just been doin' f'r the past half an hour?" He asked, gesturing at the datapads.

"That was not real work."

"Real w-" Jazz broke off, shaking his head. "Yo' insane." He watched as Prowl gave another tiny smile as he collected the datapads off the table. Surprised, he realised he didn't want the tactician to leave. "So.. Where ya goin'?"

"To my office." Prowl raised an optic ridge. "The third shift is beginning now."

To Jazz's dismay, he saw that the tactician was right; the rec. room was slowly emptying of 'bots. "Oh." He frowned. He turned back to Prowl, only to see that the tactician had already started towards the door. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet and walking beside the TIC. "Can Ah come?"

"What?" Blue optics flickered in surprise, and it became clear that Prowl's processor was stalling.

"Just because Ah'm bored!" Jazz said hurriedly, praying to Primus that the tactician wouldn't glitch. "Ah don't have anythin' else t' do."

The stalling seemed to vanish at the semi-logical argument. "What about your friend Blaster?"

"Ah was wit' him durin' his shift this mornin'. Ah don't wanna distract him from this shift or he'll never get any work done."

"And yet it is perfectly okay to 'distract' me from my own shift?"

Jazz shifted on his feet, offering a grin. "Um.. Yeah?"

"As long as '_distracting_' has nothing to do with what happened _last_ time you were in my office, you may come."

That caused Jazz to scowl as he followed the tactician down the corridors. "Excuse meh, but ya enjoyed that."

The sigh was almost audible, even though Prowl was several steps ahead. "As far as I can recall, you spent most of the time telling me how much you hated me for killing your comrades."

"I don't remember actually sayin' '_hate_'." Jazz grumbled as they reached Prowl's office. He ignored the indecipherable stare directed at him and bounced into the room.

"You did not have to, it was implied quite strongly." Prowl said calmly, taking his seat behind his desk.

The saboteur snorted and took the other chair in front of Prowl's desk. "Fraggin' ya implied Ah hated ya?"

"No, calling me a 'jumped-up glitchy aft-hole' and a 'fragging glitch' did."

"Huh." Jazz glanced down at the desk, running his fingers over some of the deeper scratches there. He raised his gaze to meet Prowl's optics. "Ya never got the scratches out."

"I got the smaller ones out." The tactician murmured, picking up a datapad and turning it on. "The deeper ones are, apparently, much harder to get rid of."

"Maybe ya shouldn't get rid of 'em then." Jazz said coolly, swinging his feet up on the desk. "'Cause now whenever yo' makin' a plan, ya just need t' look at yo' desk and think '_would Jazz approve?_'"

A long moment went past where Prowl simply stared at the mech in front of him blankly. "You are ridiculous." He said at last.

The saboteur shrugged. "Yeah, Ah know."

Prowl shook his helm and checked his chronometer. "The twins should be here any astrosecond."

"Why?"

"One of their so-called 'pranks'." Prowl sighed, looking exhausted.

"Ya look tired, mech." Jazz observed, frowning slightly. "When's the last time ya recharged?" Prowl's shrug was NOT the answer he had been looking for. Swinging his legs down off the desk, he got to his feet and sauntered around the desk to Prowl. "That ain't good f'r ya."

"I had a lot of work to do." The tactician glanced up at Jazz as the smaller mech perched on his desk. "What are you doing?"

"Ya need t' relax and recharge."

"Perhaps, but I have no time to-" Prowl was cut off sharply as Jazz bent down and kissed him. He froze, optics wide and surprised.

After a moment of no response, Jazz sighed and pulled back. "Really? Nothin'?"

"I- you- what?" Prowl looked bewildered. "You hate me..?" It came out as a question.

Jazz shrugged. "Do ya wanna change mah mind?"

Slowly, Prowl stood so he loomed over Jazz, who was still perched on the desk. "Will you kick me out again?"

"No. Ah-" this time, it was Prowl who cut Jazz off by leaning in and kissing him. The saboteur responded eagerly, wrapping his legs around the taller black and white's waist. Prowl's logic centre calmly noted that this was the first kiss where Jazz was not biting him painfully.

Wrapping his arms around the SIC's neck, Jazz lay back onto the desk, pulling Prowl with him. The tactician paused over Jazz, gazing down at him. "Perhaps this is not a good idea." He breathed. His logic centre had begun screaming at him about how illogical this whole ordeal was, but his spark was screaming at him about how right this whole ordeal was. After mere moments, Prowl muted his logic centre.

"It is." Jazz murmured, running his hands over the sweeping doorwings that had caught his attention, gaining a little moan.

"You have regretted our actions both times we have interfaced." Prowl whispered in Jazz's audio horn, eliciting a shiver from the smaller mech. "Perhaps you should- ahhoh..."

A grin spread across Jazz's face like quickfire at Prowl's reaction to the magnetic pulses over his doorwings. "Wha' was tha'?"

"_Frag_.." The tactician's optics flickered in pleasure and his doorwings flared sharply.

A surprised laugh fell from the TIC's mouth. "Huh. Ah've never heard ya swear like tha' before."

Instead of answering, Prowl bent down and captured Jazz's lips again with his. Abandoning the doorwings, black hands flew up to cup the tactician's face, pulling him even closer. He moaned softly as Prowl's hands began to wander down his body, and he arched into the touch.

And then, there was a knock on the door.

Both mechs on the desk froze, and turned to stare at the door simultaneously. "Frag." Jazz hissed.

Quick as lightning, Prowl was off the desk and headed towards the door. He glanced behind him before he opened it and gestured at Jazz to get off the desk. Scowling sulkily, the saboteur slipped off the table and plopped himself down in the chair in front of Prowl's desk. He glared at the opposite wall as Prowl opened the door, and the sound of the twins offering sullen greetings could be heard. Then Prowl spoke, "You will both have to stand, I'm afraid, as you broke my second chair last time you were."

"That was Sunny." Sideswipe protested quickly. "And what about the other chair?"

"Occupied." Jazz snapped from where he was sitting, refusing to turn his head. "Ah ain't movin'."

"Jazz?" Sideswipe raised an optic ridge upon seeing his friend in Prowl's office. "What're you doing here?"

"Myself and Jazz were discussing his timetable for the rest of the month, as he currently has a virus." Prowl lied calmly, sitting down in his own seat. "Now, you know what you are here for."

Sunstreaker shot a glare at his brother, but remained silent: Sideswipe was the one who spoke up. "Okay, so we know that exchanging medical tools for rubber ones was totally not cool, but it was a joke! It was just a prank, and Wheeljack found it funny!"

"No, he did not. Wheeljack had to stay in the medbay for an extra two days simply because there were no tools to fix him! He was in a substantial amount of pain, because of your idiotic '_joke_'."

Unbidden, the thought of what would have happened if something had gone wrong with the sparkling and the only tools available were rubber ones surfaced in Jazz's processor. His hands fell over his abdomen and he blurted out "How could ya have been so _stupid_?!"

Everyone turned to stare at him in surprise.

"Jazz? You're taking Prowl's side?!" The red twin said in shock.

"O' course! He's right! What if somethin' serious had happened, and the only fraggin' things the medics had were _fraggin' rubber tools_?!" Jazz was yelling now, and his arms were crossed protectively over his abdomen.

Sunstreaker visibly flinched, but Sideswipe kept talking, "No, that wouldn't have happened! We planned it really carefully-"

"Ya can't control accidents!" Jazz roared, "Ya have no idea what's goin' on wit' other 'bots! They could have had serious need f'r a medic, and yo' went and did somethin' as stupid as that!"

Both twins were silent, staring at Jazz in quiet shock as their friend roared at them about their stupidity. Prowl decided to remain silent also; Jazz's rant was actually better than the lecture he had planned.

It was only when Jazz had jumped to his feet and actually tried to hit them that Prowl had intervened. "Okay, you may leave now." The tactician had to shout over Jazz as he held the smaller mech by the waist to prevent him from attacking the twins. "Report to Ironhide for brig time!"

The twins darted out the door so fast the only things visible were two streaks of yellow and red. "Let meh go!" Jazz shrieked, pushing at Prowl's chassis, "They're idiots! What the frag were they _thinkin_'?!"

"They never think. Jazz, calm down please." Prowl pleaded in the saboteur's audio horn. "They are gone, and they will be punished."

Jazz stopped struggling, panting air through his vents harshly. "How?"

"Other than brig time?" Prowl thought for a moment, before a devilish half-smile appeared on his face. "How about you decide?"

"Meh?" Jazz grinned. "Excellent. Somethin' that involves mud and dirt. Lots of mud and dirt."

...

"So?"

Ratchet glanced up from the scan results. "Everything looks to be in order... You have the makings of a perfectly healthy sparkling on the way."

"Yeah? Good." Jazz muttered, glancing away.

Clearly noticing the saboteur's attitude, Ratchet sighed. "Are you still thinking of giving it up?"

"Yes." Jazz said stiffly. "There's nothin' else Ah can do."

"You could keep it."

That earned a sarcastic snort. "Yeah, raisin' a sparklin' by mahself in the middle of a war. Good idea, Ratch."

"Do you really think you would be on your own?" The medic demanded sharply. "Don't be so ridiculous. Prowl, for one, would help you. And other than Prowl, all your friends in the Autobot force would help you." He sighed when he saw that Jazz was simply glaring at the floor. "You know, Wheeljack tells me that yourself and Prowl were talking _civilly_ in the rec. room last week."

"And?" Jazz snorted. "We've fragged, so Ah think we'd be able ta have a civil conversation."

"Not necessarily." The medic said calmly. "In fact, I'm willing to bet that the first time you interfaced was anything but civil." Ratchet laughed at the way his patient tensed up. "So you see, being able to interface AND hold a civil conversation is actually a fantastic start to a relationship."

"_Rela_-?" Jazz choked, staring at the medic in horror. "Wh- no! There ain't no _relationship_! He don't believe in relationships, haven't ya heard?" His last sentence was tinged with bitterness.

"Hm." Ratchet hummed thoughtfully. "And yet you still interfaced recently. Very recently, in fact. Last night, perhaps?"

Another layer of tension seemed to be added to the saboteur's frame. "Wha'?"

"The transfluid reservoir for the sparkling is full." A smile graced the medic's face, and not a nice one. "Very full."

"Ya have no proof that's from Prowl."

"I took an educated guess." Ratchet rolled his optics. "Why don't you just fragging ask him about what he thinks of a relationship between the two of you?"

"Because I don't like him." The saboteur said weakly.

THAT made Ratchet burst into gales of laughter. "Ohhh, I see. You don't _like_ him. Of course." His chuckles quietened, and he shook his helm. "Don't be ridiculous, Jazz."

"He don't like meh either." Jazz snapped, glaring at the medic. "And if everthin's alright, Ah'll be goin' now."

"Come back next orn." Ratchet said, watching the saboteur walk towards the door. Before the small mech disappeared out of the room, the medic called "Talk to Prowl!"

The only answer he got was an extremely rude hand gesture.


	4. Chapter 4

"Feeling uncomfortable yet?" Ratchet asked, poking at Jazz's abdominal plating; the protoform underneath had swollen, pushing at the plates and giving the saboteur's entire abdomen a slight rounded look. The difference was small enough that it would only be spotted if you knew what you were looking at.

"No." Jazz said stubbornly.

"Look, you need to tell me when it begins to get uncomfortable." Ratchet scowled at his patient, twisting his wrench in his hand. He was reluctant to hit a sparked 'bot, but he would if necessary. "I need to let the armour out. Most mechs would have had it done a month into their carrying process."

Jazz looked away and glared at the opposite wall. "Well, maybe Ah'm just special."

The medic snorted. "Yeah, real special. By the way, the sparkling's transfluid reservoir is running low. I'm guessing you haven't gotten any action since I last saw you?"

Before Jazz could retort, the door to the medbay slid open and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker appeared, carrying an offline Prowl between them. Sideswipe gave Ratchet a sheepish grin. "Ratch, hey! How're you doing?"

"What happened?" Ratchet voiced the question before Jazz got the chance to. The saboteur's optics had grown huge behind his visor, and he stared at the prone form of Prowl in the arms of the twins.

"We.. uh.. we may have made him glitch a little."

"How?" Jazz exclaimed, staring at the offline tactician as the twins laid him on a medical berth.

"Oh.." Sideswipe chuckled awkwardly. "We told him we were in love with Smokey and asked his permission to bond with him."

There was a loud clang as a wrench collided with his head. "Idiots! Why would you do that?!" Ratchet yelled furiously. "Do you have any idea how complicated and intricate that logic centre is? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to fix?"

"Will ya be able t'?" Jazz forced himself to stay on his own berth as Ratchet looked Prowl over.

"Of course." The medic said grumpily. "I'm me. I'd give you two a lecture, but I have no doubt Prowl will do so when he comes online in.. Let's say three minutes."

"Frag."

When Ratchet looked around again, the medbay door was closing and the twins were gone. He shook his head in exasperation and turned back to Prowl. "He'll be fine." He called to Jazz over his shoulder. "He's waking up now."

"Not like Ah care." The saboteur muttered grouchily, watching the tactician intently.

There was a soft groan as Prowl's processor rebooted, and his soft blue optics flickered as they onlined. After a moment of staring at the ceiling as his logic centre ran some diagnostics, he finally glanced around. "What-"

"The twins." Ratchet said shortly, looking at some readings on his monitor. "It's not too bad. I don't even need to defrag your logic centre."

Another soft groan escaped the tactician and he placed a hand over his forehelm. "Not again."

Jazz remained silent, watching everything carefully. After a moment, Ratchet glanced at him and coughed awkwardly. "Right. Well, you'll need to stay here for an hour or so, until your processor adjusts again. Jazz, call me if either of you need anything. I'll be in my office."

"'Kay."

The mention of Jazz's name caused Prowl to glance around in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Neither of them noticed Ratchet edging out of the room with a small smile. "Check-up." Jazz said shortly, refusing to meet the tactician's gaze.

"I see." Even though Prowl tilted his head curiously, he didn't press for more answers. Instead, he sat up in the berth, and waited for his processor to stop spinning before saying "I should be working."

That caused Jazz to snort and shake his helm. "Oh, shut up. Ya worked all through the night."

"How did you know that?"

"'Cause ya do it all the time." Jazz didn't mention the fact that he had gone by Prowl's quarters because he had needed a deposit of transfluid for the sparkling. "Oh." He said suddenly, abruptly realising why Ratchet had left them alone.

"What?" Prowl frowned, watching Jazz concernedly. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Jazz said quickly, trying to come up with a way to convince Prowl to frag him in the middle of the medbay. After a moment, he simply stood and walked calmly over to the other mech's berth. "So... Does yo' processor hurt?"

"No." Prowl regarded the smaller 'bot suspiciously, but decided not to question his actions. "I just need to sort through some excess data, but everything should be- Jazz? What are you doing?"

"Hm?" The saboteur looked up innocently from where had begun tracing patterns on Prowl's thigh. "Nothin'."

"I hardly think this is appropriate." Prowl murmured, gently removing the TIC's hand and glancing around, as if checking to see if there was anyone around.

"Ah hardly think Ah care." Jazz rolled his optics behind his visor, before pulling himself up onto Prowl's med berth.

The tactician drew back cautiously. "Jazz..."

"Shhh."

"No, really." Prowl insisted. "We are in the medbay! And you will end up regretting it like you have the past times-"

"Nuh-uh." Jazz muttered, straddling Prowl's hips. After all, he couldn't regret it anymore than he did already. "Ya can only say no if ya don't want t' frag meh." There was a long silence, before Prowl finally placed his hands on Jazz's slender hips. The saboteur grinned, and pushed Prowl's chassis until the mech lay back down on the berth. "So ya want t' frag meh?"

Prowl glared up at the smaller mech as he positioned himself over the tactician's crotch. "I would rather if you wouldn't be so crass."

"Yo' kiddin'." Jazz sighed, sitting back on Prowl's codpiece. "Mech, can ya not? Ah just wanna be fragged."

"So why do you keep coming to me?" Prowl frowned. "You are a popular mech, I have no doubt there are many bots willing to interface with you if you simply say the word. And you hate me-"

"Okay, okay!" Jazz said quickly as Prowl began displaying more signs of a crash. "Look... maybe Ah actually just like ya!"

Prowl stared at him emotionlessly.

"Okay, maybe yo' just really good in berth." Jazz grudgingly admitted. "Like... maybe the best Ah've had."

A flicker of pure surprise crossed Prowl's face. "Ever?"

Scowling, Jazz crossed his arms. "Yeah. Ever."

After a brief silence, Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yes!" Jazz said, exasperated. He hated that it was true. "Don't let it go t' yo' helm."

"Hm." Prowl's thumbs began rubbing circles in Jazz's hips. "That will be difficult."

"Oh, shut up." Jazz grumbled, leaning down and kissing him. "So, will ya please fr-" he broke off when he saw Prowl's frown, "What do ya want meh t' say? Will ya make love t' meh?"

Prowl gazed up at him impassionately. "Are you finished making fun of me?"

"Haven't even started."

...

Ratchet sighed, checking his chronometer again. It had been almost an hour and a half, and he could STILL hear Jazz and Prowl going at it in the other room. "And they claim not to like each other." He snorted to himself.

::Ratchet..?::

The medic frowned at the unexpected comm. ::Wheeljack? What is it?::

::Um.. The prototype for my plasma phaser exploded and my arm is.. Uh.. well anyway, the door to the medbay won't open?::

After a long hesitation Ratchet sighed and stood, making his way to the door of his office. Pausing for a bare astrosecond, he palmed open the door and strode into the medbay.

Jazz was on top of Prowl, and was moving very promiscuously. The tactician's hand were clenched tightly around Jazz's hips, and he was controlling the pace, much to the TIC's obvious frustration. And on top of that, Jazz was extremely vocal in his pleasure.

It wasn't too surprising to Ratchet that neither of them noticed him enter. He rolled his optics and drew a curtain around their berth, "Keep it down, Wheeljack's coming in."

Prowl froze, staring up at Jazz in horror as the medic walked away. The saboteur barely paused before he started moving again. "Jazz, stop!" Prowl hissed. "Didn't you hear Ratchet? Wheeljack is coming in!"

"Yeah, but tha' don't mean we gotta stop." Jazz said breathlessly, intakes working harshly, "He told us to keep it down, not to stop."

"You will not be able to keep quiet!" Prowl argued, frowning up at the saboteur. "You have screamed each time you've overloaded in the past half an hour-"

"'Scuse meh? Is tha' a challenge?"

"No, it is not-"

"_Challenge accepted_!"

"Jazz, it was not a challenge-"

There was no point in arguing; Jazz was already moving his hips again. From behind the curtain, Ratchet was lecturing Wheeljack loudly about his injuries.

The tactician remained stubborn for only another minute, before giving in to Jazz and thrusting upwards. Jazz threw his helm back in pleasure, but remained silent. He grinned down at Prowl before tightening and loosening the callipers in his valve, mimicking a massage on the taller mech's spike. Prowl's mouth fell open and his optics dimmed, but he too remained quiet.

Jazz leaned down so his lips were level with Prowl's audio receptor. "Do ya think you'll be able t' stay quiet too?"

With a quiet groan, Prowl's hands tightened on Jazz's hips and pulled him firmly downwards. The saboteur gasped in pleasure, but muffled the sound by sucking on Prowl's cherry-red chevron. That drew out a quiet moan from the normally reserved Praxian, and Jazz grinned madly at his victory.

"What was that?" Wheeljack's voice asked curiously from behind the curtain.

"Two patients working out their problems." Ratchet grouched back.

Jazz chuckled, moving faster and feeling his core temperature rising as he approached his third overload. Below him, Prowl's movements were becoming more and more uncoordinated, signalling the tactician was possibly even closer to finishing than Jazz. "Nearly there?" Jazz whispered in his audio, licking a trail up the sensitive metal of the chevron.

"Mmm... Close.." Prowl bucked up into the saboteur.

"Ah know." Jazz giggled, playing with the graceful doorwings below him. "M-meh too."

"Hurry it up in there!" Ratchet let out a roar.

"Okay!" Jazz roared back, quickening their pace. Whispering to Prowl, he said "That didn't count as bein' loud durin' fraggin', by the way." But the tactician seemed too far gone to even realise he was being spoken to.

Prowl jerked upwards, and Jazz barely bit back a squeal as his ceiling node was stimulated. That brought his overload crashing all around him, and he bit down on Prowl's neck cables to keep himself quiet. His valve clenched sporadically around the spike inside him, and Prowl groaned his usual soft groan as he overloaded into the saboteur.

"Primus, Ah love that sound." Jazz murmured as he slumped over his comrade; he was barely aware of what he was saying in the afterglow of his overload.

"Hmm?" Prowl onlined his optics slowly, gazing at the small mech lying strutlessly across his chassis. "What sound?"

"Th' li'l moan ya make when ya overload." Jazz muttered sleepily, offlining his optics and causing his visor to go dark. "Ah.. Ah think Ah'm gonna recharge now..."

"Jazz.." Prowl frowned slightly, "We're in the medbay, I don't think-" he realised the saboteur was already recharging and sighed to himself.

...

"You don't think it's weird?" Sideswipe demanded, staring around at the whole group as they sat around one of the tables at the rec. room.

Bumblebee shrugged. "Just 'cause Prowl has been in a good mood recently-"

"Good mood?!" Sideswipe practically shrieked. "Me and Sunny painted Ratchet pink, and we didn't even get a lecture! He just said 'Don't do it again or I'll let Ratchet destroy you both', and he didn't even correct our grammar!"

"Ah think yo' just overreactin'." Jazz muttered, shaking his helm.

"No, I am not! He's been acting super creepy!" Sideswipe nudged his twin. "Help me out here, bro."

The yellow twin glared at his brother. "I think you're being ridiculous, to be honest."

"Okay, ignore him." Sideswipe said quickly. "He has no idea what he's talking about. Smokey, help me out here!"

The blue Praxian sighed and rubbed his yellow chevron. "Look, I have noticed him acting different, but that doesn't mean a thing. I HAVE seen him happy before, you know."

"I wouldn't call him HAPPY." Sideswipe frowned. "Just less uptight than usual. Happy Prowl would be a little bit too much for me to handle. He's acting like..." He snapped his fingers suddenly, "like he's gotten fragged recently or something."

Jazz spat his energon across the table, eliciting several startled shouts. "Wha'?"

"I know, right?!" Sideswipe nodded emphatically. "The idea of Prowl being fragged is-" he broke off, shuddering.

No one noticed that Jazz's hand had clenched around his cube of nanite-rich energon. "Ah doubt tha's true."

But Smokescreen was frowning. "Actually... I can't say I'm overly familiar with how my brother acts after an overload, but the past few times after he's been fragged, he's acted like... like that. Relaxed and everything."

"But tha' doesn't mean-"

Hound spoke over Jazz. "So what? It's his business, you know. If Prowl wants to interface with someone, I say good for him! He deserves to be happy. He does a lot for us."

That earned a bitter laugh from Tracks. "Seriously? He doesn't do anything for us except send us into dangerous situations that could get us killed! I feel bad for the sorry fragger who's putting up with him long enough to-"

"Okay, that's enough high-grade for you." Smokescreen said stiffly, confiscating the cube from Tracks' hand. "He is my brother, in case you've forgotten."

Jazz sat stiffly, his hand resting absently over his swollen abdomen. "Ah don't-" he broke off sharply, his hand clenching over his stomach-plating.

From across the table, Blaster pulled a bin out from underneath the table and handed it to Sideswipe. "Give it to him, quick!"

Startled, Sideswipe practically flung the bin at Jazz, just in time for the saboteur to purge the contents of his tanks into it. He kept his helm in the bin a few minutes longer than necessary, unwilling to show his face out of embarrassment. Groaning, he lifted his head and wiped his mouth. "Sorry."

"You okay?" Hound looked concerned.

"Yeah. Yeah, Ah'm fine." The saboteur said weakly, smiling unconvincingly. "Just.. just the virus, y'know?"

"Oh, I thought it was the mental image of Prowl interfacing."

That brought a smirk to Jazz's face, but for different reasons than Sideswipe thought. "Nah, wasn't tha'. Look, Ah'm not feelin' too hot. Ah'm gonna go t' berth."

They said their goodbyes, and Jazz headed out from the rec. room, hiding the protrusion in his torso as best as he could. He wasn't aware he was making his way to Prowl's office until he had arrived at the door and knocked.

"Enter."

Jazz paused, seeming startled, before the door slid open and he edged in cautiously. "Hi."

"Oh. Hello." Prowl set down his datapad quickly. "Ah.. How are you?"

"Ah.. Ah'm fine." Forcing a smile, Jazz walked further into the office. After a moment, his smile became convincing. "And yo'?"

"I am well." Prowl cleared his vocaliser. "Did... you want something?"

"Uhm.." Jazz struggled to come up with an excuse quickly. "Ah was wonderin' if... uhm.."

"You had no reason." Prowl deduced, raising a single optic ridge.

"Actually.." Cautiously, Jazz took the seat in front of the desk and began fiddling. "Ah wanted t' tell ya somethin'."

"Oh?" The tactician asked absently.

"Yeah." Jazz steadied himself and cleared his vocaliser of nervous static. "It's... It's kinda big too, so.."

"Oh?" Prowl said again, frowning slightly. "What is it?"

"Yeah, um.. Yeah, okay." Jazz took a deep intake. "Okay. Uh.."

"Jazz, is everything okay?" Prowl frowned, looking abruptly concerned.

"Wha'? Oh yeah, everythin's fine!" The saboteur laughed nervously. "Yeah, it's all cool. Look, Ah'm just gonna say it."

"Very well." Prowl said slowly, regarding the smaller mech curiously.

"Okay. Okay... Okay." Jazz took another calming intake. "Um... Remember, like, two months ago? The first time we, uh.. y'know?"

Frowning, Prowl tilted his helm. "The first time we interfaced?"

A nervous laugh exploded from Jazz, and he nodded. "Ahaha! Yeah.. Uh.. the first time we did that."

"What about it?"

"Well.." He began shifting nervously in his seat and fiddling with his hands. "After that, Ah went t' Ratchet, and-"

"One moment." Prowl said suddenly, his hand going to the side of his helm as he got a private comm. message. His optic ridges knitted together in a frown, and he stood up from his chair. "I'm sorry, Jazz. I must go."

"Go?" Startled, the saboteur jumped to his feet too. "Go where?"

"It seems I have a visitor." Suddenly his frown deepened, and his hand went to the side of his helm again. "And it appears that my visitor is coming up to my office now."

"Oh. Okay. So maybe-"

"Perhaps you should go." Prowl said suddenly, glancing at the door and then back to Jazz.

"W-what?"

"I am sorry, that was insensitive." Prowl winced slightly. "I-"

"No. No, tha's fine." Jazz said stiffly. "Ah'll go."

"Jazz-"

"It's fine." The saboteur repeated, stepping around the chair. "Don't worry 'bout it."

The door slid open even before Jazz could step towards it, and a new mech was revealed in the doorway. He was tall and slender, with deep blue paint and purple accents. His face broke into a massive smile when he caught sight of Prowl, and he squealed. "Prowlie!"

Jazz watched in silent surprise as the new mech raced passed him and practically jumped on Prowl. The tactician himself stood perfectly still and allowed himself to be hugged, but he didn't reciprocate. In fact, he looked mildly horrified. After a moment, he said "Hightail." He sounded as though he were in shock - but, Jazz told himself, Prowl was never surprised.

'Hightail' let go off him and beamed, before kissing him swiftly on the cheek. "I've missed you!"

"Why are you here?"

The mech didn't look offended in the slightest; as though he were used to Prowl's mannerisms. "Well, I got transferred from Altihex! I'm being posted here now! Come on, act even a little excited!"

"Do you remember the conversation we had last time we saw each other?"

An airy laugh escaped from between Hightail's lips, and Jazz found him envying the soft sound. "You didn't really mean that, did you?"

"Yes, I did. War is no place for a relationship."

"Prowlie." Hightail coaxed, rubbing the Praxian's doorwings expertly. "You always say that, but you never mean it."

Prowl looked furious. "We will discuss this later. I was in the middle of a meeting." He hissed venomously.

"Oh." The blue and purple mech turned around and caught sight of the third mech in the room. "Hi there!" A flicker of recognition crossed his handsome face. "You're Jazz, right? THE Jazz?"

The saboteur forced another smile; he seemed to be doing that a lot recently. "Ya've hear o' meh?"

"Oh, of course." Hightail giggled. "You're the Third In Command of the entire Autobot force, and famous for your saboteur skills! I'd be worried if there was an Autobot who hadn't heard of you!"

"Right." Jazz stared at him blankly for a long moment. "Right. Um.. Ah should be goin'."

"No, wait-" Prowl began, but the TIC shook his helm.

"Nah, Ah've gotta meet up wit' people anyway. It's cool. See ya. Nice ta meetcha, Hightail."

"You too!" The mech smiled, slinging his arm around Prowl, who was watching Jazz intently.

Jazz had never left a room so fast in his life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you everyone so much for all the support! I love all of your opinions and thoughts so much! I hope you enjoy the latest instalment ;)**

**Please review if you can! Thank you!**

"It had to be done, and you know it." Ratchet chided, looking over Jazz's abdominal plating. He had released the catches on the saboteur's armour, allowing the gestation chamber more room to swell out, this allowing the sparkling more room for uninhibited growth. It also, unfortunately, made the swelling more evident. "You can barely even notice it."

Jazz shot the medic a venomous glare. "Ah look huge."

"No, you don't!" Ratchet said hurriedly. "Just... stocky." A shriek of rage escaped the saboteur's vocaliser, and he barely prevented himself from punching the medic. Ratchet recoiled slightly; he hated having to deal with sparked mechs and femmes. "Calm down! Optimus is on his way down here, by the way. I already told him about your.. condition."

"Whatever." Jazz glared sulkily at the wall and crossed his arms over his lightly swollen abdomen.

Seizing his chance now that the carrier was no longer so enraged, Ratchet spoke up again. "So, word has it that Prowl has a new lover."

Every strut in the black and white frame tensed, but Jazz's voice was almost painfully cool when he spoke again. "Ah heard."

"I am guessing you didn't tell him about you, then."

At this, Jazz snarled in frustration. "Ah tried! Ah was in the middle o' tryin' t' explain, when Mr. Perfect Aft pranced in and practically started humpin' Prowl's leg!"

So caught up in his own outrage, Jazz completely missed the sound of the medbay doors opening and Optimus walking in. Ratchet barely stifled his laugh at their commander's raised optic ridge. "Is that so?"

Jazz barely turned; he simply scowled. "Oh, and now Prime's eavesdroppin' on everythin'."

"Jazz!" Ratchet scolded, shocked at the usually friendly mech's behaviour, and to a superior no less.

But the Autobot leader simply chuckled. "How are you feeling, Jazz?"

"Fine." The saboteur murmured, crossing his legs on the berth. "A li'l fat."

"You do not look it." The big mech promised, sitting on the berth opposite his TIC. After a long moment of simply regarding the smaller mech's swollen abdomen, he spoke again. "I think this is something we need to discuss."

"Yes, sir." Jazz whispered, refusing to meet his commander's optics.

"A sparkling is such a massive responsibility. It is something that should not rest on one 'bot alone; Ratchet tells me you are unwilling to involve Prowl in this."

A glare was swiftly shot at the medic before Jazz glanced back to Optimus. "Yes, sir. Ah'd rather he didn't know."

"Why?" The massive Autobot linked his hands together and regarded his soldier thoughtfully.

"Because," Jazz began tiredly, "It was never meant t' happen. Ah didn't want the li'l glitch in the first place. And now it's growin' in meh, and it's actually freakin' meh out, but it's mah problem and Ah'm gonna deal wit' it."

A brief silence reigned as Optimus thought. "I see." He said eventually, "Jazz... As your commander and your friend, I advise you to tell Prowl-"

"Sir, wit' all due respect, Ah have no intention t' tell Prowl. At all." Jazz said bluntly. "Ah'm sorry, but-"

"I would be very appreciative if you could let me finish." The big mech's tone was gentle, but it brooked no argument. "As I was saying, I would very much advise you to tell Prowl of the sparkling. It has been such a long time since any soldier has seen one in the course of the war. I have no doubt it will serve as a much needed morale booster." Optimus' voice softened as he gazed at Jazz's abdominal plating.

"Ah.. Ah don't want it." Jazz's voice was weak and almost pathetic sounding; a total contrast to his usual loud and colourful demeanour. "Ah don't wanna keep it."

Ratchet spoke up from where he was polishing one of his wrenches over on the other side of the medbay. "See? I told you he was being a stubborn fragger."

A reproachful look was shot in the medic's direction by both mechs, but Ratchet ignored them. Optimus shook his helm, and turned back to his TIC. "Please consider it."

"Consider wha'? Tellin' Prowl or keepin' the sparklin'?"

"Both." The Prime said shortly, standing and straightening up. Nodding, he made his way towards Ratchet.

"Who's Hightail?" The question seemed to burst from the saboteur before his processor could catch up with his vocaliser.

The wry smile tugging at Optimus' lips was barely visible as he turned to look at Jazz again. "Hightail is a tactician formerly stationed at Altihex. He was transferred here to offer aid to our tactics department." The barely-there smile threatened to grow into a visible grin at the sight of the frustrated look forming on the carrying mech's face. It obviously wasn't the correct information he was looking for. "Not that I am one for gossip, but Sideswipe tells me that Hightail and Prowl had an.. intimate relationship before the war became serious. My information could be wrong, but I believe Prowl broke it off; I believe everyone knows how he feels about relations during the war."

After a long, thoughtful silence, Jazz spoke up again. "And what do yo' think?"

"I think that without relationships, the war would eat us up from the inside out. Romantic or platonic, they are essential."

"Mmhm." Jazz made a noncommittal noise, before turning his gaze away. The Prime had given him much to think about.

...

"-and that's how I got my helm stuck in the top drawer in Prime's desk." Eject finished his story with a self-satisfied nod and cheerful quirk of the helm.

Jazz stared blankly at his best friend's cassette. "What?"

"I know, crazy right?" The tiny blue mech cheered, punching the air. "It was awesome!"

Rewind shot his brother a look. "You're an idiot."

"Ah ah, no name-callin'." The attempt at sounding stern failed, as a smile crept across Jazz's lipplates.

"Whatever." Rewind said sulkily, before shooting the saboteur a look. "We don't need you to babysit us, y'know."

"Ah know, but Blaster wanted meh to. He's workin', an' yo' ain't allowed t' go anywhere on yo' own after the incident wit' Prime's desk."

"That was his fault!"

"You assisted me!"

Resting his hands on his swollen abdominal plating, Jazz's thoughts began to wander to the sparkling growing within him. Would the new spark be so full of energy? What would its personality be like? He silently bet it would look like Prowl. But would it act like the tactician? Or would it be reckless and chatty like its carrier? All the questions running through his processor, yet Jazz knew he'd never get any answers if he gave the sparkling up to a Youth Sector.

"-you okay?"

Startled back to reality, Jazz saw Blaster standing over him, holding Rewind while Eject swung from his arms. "Oh, yo' back!"

Blue optics narrowed suspiciously, and the cassette deck sat down opposite his friend. "That's it. Ah'm not stupid, ya know. Who was it?"

"Huh?" Jazz looked totally bewildered.

"Who was it that sparked ya up?" Blaster demanded, staring pointedly at his friend's swollen plating.

Startled, Jazz stared blankly. His processor seemed to actually slow as he tried to come up with an excuse. "Ah- no one, Ah don't- Ah'm not sparked." The words tumbled out of his mouth in a confused jumble.

"Do ya know how many cassettes Ah've had?" Blaster demanded. "Ah think Ah know what a sparked 'bot looks and acts like. Now tell meh who it was."

"Ah'm not sparked!" Jazz hissed, glancing around swiftly to make sure no one was close enough to hear their conversation.

"What's this then?" Blaster poked at the swell of the black and white abdominal plates, directly over the gestation chamber. "And what's up with all the purgin'? And the grumpiness? And the-"

"Okay, okay, shut up!" Another hiss and a glance around, before Jazz simply glared. "Fine. Ah'm sparked. If ya tell anyone, Ah swear t' Primus-"

"Ah'm yo' friend, dumbaft!" It was Blaster's turn to look angry now. "Ya should've told meh when ya first found out! What were ya thinkin'? And if the creator's who Ah think it might be-!"

"Shhh!" Panicked, Jazz shot out of his seat and practically leapt on his friend, covering his mouth with his hand. "Ah'm sorry Ah didn't tell ya, but it was sorta terrifyin' f'r meh!"

"And what about the other creator?" Blaster asked tensely, pushing the hand away from his face.

"What 'bout him?"

"Is he helping? Ah haven't seen him around ya at all-"

"He don't know." Jazz replied stiffly, glancing down at himself.

"What do ya mean 'he don't know'?"

"Ah mean Ah haven't told him!" Jazz hissed angrily.

"Why the frag not?"

"I think ya should tell him." Eject piped up from beside his creator. Suddenly, a strange look crossed his face. "Wait a sec... Did you frag Prowl?"

"Shh!" Rewind elbowed his twin. "We weren't meant to tell him we knew!"

Slowly, Jazz turned his glare on Blaster. "Ya told them?"

"Ah try not t' keep secrets from my sparklin's."

"So... Did ya?" Eject pressed, gazing up at Jazz curiously. "'Cause... That'd be kinda weird."

"It's not weird." Rewind tilted his helm. "It's romantic."

"It's weird."

"It is not!"

Jazz put his helm in his hands. "Oh Primus..."

A smirk crossed Blaster's face at his friend's actions. "Bet ya can't wait t' have one of yo' own."

"Not keepin' it." Jazz mumbled into his hands.

"Sorry, what?"

"Ah ain't keepin' it!" Jazz burst out, lifting his helm up.

Many mechs glanced over in their direction curiously, but their attention strayed after a moment. Blaster and his two cassettes remained silent for a long moment. "Ya ain't keepin' it?" He asked quietly. "Why not?"

"Ah don't want it." Jazz groaned, covering his visor with his hand. "Ah never asked f'r this. And Prowl don't want it either-"

"How do ya know he doesn't want it if ya haven't asked him?" He demanded, crossing his red arms over his chest.

"I know!" Eject suddenly shouted, gaining more looks from the 'bots in the rec. room. He lowered his voice again, "You're jealous 'cause that new tactician guy has been holed up with Prowl in his office, ey?"

"What?" Jazz tensed, gaping at the little blue cassette. "F'r how long? What've they been doin'?"

"I dunno, but I can find out for a few credits." Eject offered, tilting his head questioningly.

"Eject!" Blaster said, looking outraged at his own creation's antics.

"Deal!" Jazz spoke over his friend, nodding at the cassette. "Do ya think you'll be able t' do it wit'out gettin' caught?"

"'Course!" Eject looked offended that there was even a single doubt about his abilities. "You think I'm incompetent?"

"Ya got yo' helm stuck in Prime's desk." The saboteur reminded him.

"Speaking of," The communications officer spoke up suddenly, shooting his cassettes a disapproving glare. "You two are on probation. Ya ain't allowed anywhere on your own."

"Awww, c'mon!" Both Eject and Rewind whined simultaneously.

To Blaster's dismay, Jazz joined in. "Yeah, c'mon mech! Don't ya want meh t' be happy?"

"So yo' sayin' that Prowl makes ya happy?"

"No, tha's not-" Jazz broke off, sighing in frustration. "Look mech, please. Ah don't know what's wrong wit' meh! Ah just.. Ah just wanna know, 'kay?"

After a long and expectant silence, Blaster huffed and waved off his creations. "Go then. But don't get caught!"

"Please, we're better than that!" Rewind chided, grabbing his brother's arm and dragging him out of the room.

Blaster looked back to Jazz with a shake of the head. "If my creations get into trouble for this, it's on you."

"Noted." The saboteur muttered, easing back into his seat and patting his stomach plating absently. "Hey... did, um.. did it hurt? The delivering part, Ah mean."

Surprised, Blaster looked closely at his friend, only noticing how nervous Jazz looked now. "Oh.. It was.. an interestin' experience."

"Did it hurt though?" Jazz repeated, sitting up tensely again.

"It.. yes." The communications officer admitted. He caught sight of the obviously scared look on the saboteur's face. "It did. But it wasn't too bad; Ah've had more than one cassette, right? If it hurt too had, Ah wouldn't have continued havin' 'em."

"Right." Jazz breathed out, nodding. "Yeah. Cool. Okay." He tried to ignore the sympathetic look he was receiving. "We should throw a party."

"What?" Blaster looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Why not? Ah mean, Ah'm sparked! Ah want ta have a good time! Why do ya have ta question that?"

"Okay, okay." Blaster said soothingly, internally rolling his optics. "Ah'll organise it."

If anyone else could have seen the grin on Jazz's face, they would have gone running.

...

Jazz hummed contentedly from where he was watching the dancefloor from a table near the corner. He was vaguely irritated with himself that he wasn't dancing too, but his body felt too fatigued to move that much.

His gaze was drawn to Sideswipe, where he was dancing on a table. The red frontliner appeared thoroughly overcharged, and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely as he laughed and swung his hips around. Sunstreaker was absent, but no one seemed to be missing the sullen golden mech's presence. Jazz wondered absently if the twins had had a fight.

With another glance at the dancefloor, Jazz couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at the sight of Optimus dancing with Elita-One. The big mech looked relaxed and honestly happy for the first time in a long while, since almost before the war.

A flash of blue and purple caught Jazz's attention, and a curl of some unknown emotion coiled around his spark at the sight of Hightail dancing and laughing with Blaster, Hound and Bumblebee. With a sigh, he looked down at his special nanite-rich energon in his hands. He longed for high-grade, so he could attempt to drown his troubles away, but the bulge in his torso provided him a reminder of the damage he could cause to the little spark. Even if he didn't want to keep it, he had no desire to harm it.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Prowl approach and sit down across the table from him. He was only pulled from the reverie he was in when the tactician spoke. "I apologise for not being able to speak to you about our situation earlier."

"Wha'?" Jazz blinked behind his visor, noticing Prowl for the first time.

"We never got the chance to-"

"Discuss the arrival o' Hightail?" Jazz guessed, taking another casual sip of his energon.

"Yes." Prowl took a drink of his own energon; low-grade, as would have only been expected from him. "I realise that I am obliged to explain the situation to you." He ignored the saboteur's mouth, which was turned down in an unhappy frown. Prowl plowed on before Jazz could demand for him to explain WHY he was obliged to explain the situation. "Hightail and myself were in a relationship in the early stages of the war. I broke it off, as relationships of the kind myself and Hightail were involved in are inappropriate during war. It seems," Here Prowl sighed in mild frustration and shook his helm, "that Hightail is under the impression that we are, in his own words, 'back together' now that he is in Iacon with me."

"Ah see." Jazz murmured calmly, running his thumbs in circles over the swell of his gestation chamber. "And wha' did ya tell him?"

"I was unsure what to tell him." The tactician began cautiously, watching Jazz intently. "I was hoping that you could perhaps assist me in that regard."

Humming softly, the saboteur crossed his legs and took another sip of his energon. "What do ya want meh t' say?"

"I want you to give me a reason to tell Hightail I do not wish to be in a relationship with him." Prowl said straight-forwardly.

A small laugh escaped Jazz at the taller mech's bluntness. "Ah see. Well, ya aren't exactly too into relationships anyway right? Nevermind relationships during wartime. Is tha' not reason enough?"

"No, I believe not." The tactician said calmly, watching the other mech drink his energon.

Jazz placed his empty cube back on the table and looked at Prowl curiously. "Do ya like him?"

Shooting a glance at the blue and purple tactician on the dancefloor, Prowl shrugged. "My emotional centre seems to be slightly dysfunctional at the moment."

"Why do ya think tha'?"

Blue optics bore into a blue visor, and a single white shoulder rose and fell gracefully in a shrug. "It has been rather confusing lately. If you cannot help me with a reason, I may perhaps just-"

"Ah'm sure Ah can help." Jazz said quickly, leaning forwards in his seat. "Ah just don't know what ya expect meh t' say."

Prowl shook his helm, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. "Never mind. I will deal with it." His frown cleared as he turned his attention back to the saboteur. "I apologise for bringing my troubles to you. That was unprofessional of me." He chose to ignore Jazz's unhappy expression. "Anyway, I believe you had something to tell me."

"Oh. Yeah." Jazz glanced down nervously. "Right. Er.. Look, Ah really don't know how t' say this, mech..."

Prowl's optic ridges drew together. "Is everything alright?"

"Uh... Not really." A nervous laugh escaped the saboteur uncertainly. "Okay, look... It's sorta about us."

"Us?" The tactician raised an optic ridge and leaned back in his chair. "You are referring to the times we have interfaced?"

Jazz glanced around to make sure no one was listening to them, but everyone was busy with dancing or drinking or... other activities. Jazz averted his optics quickly. "Sorta..."

It was obvious that they were both dancing around what they wanted to say.

"Continue."

"Have ya interfaced wit' Hightail since he came back?" The question burst out of the saboteur before he could think.

Startled, Prowl blinked and drew back. "Excuse me?"

Well, there was no going back now. "Was he any good? How many times did ya do it? Where did ya do it? In yo' office or yo' berth?"

"Jazz!" Prowl hissed in outrage. "Stop it! No, I have not. Happy?"

"Why would Ah be happy?"

"Will you please just tell me what is wrong with you?"

"There's nothin' wrong wit' meh!" The saboteur yelped angrily, glaring at Prowl.

"You are acting ridiculously."

"Ah'm sp-"

"Prowl!" The call of the tactician's name caused both mech's to glance around in time to see Hightail bouncing towards them. His intakes were working hard from his dancing, but he had a massive grin across his face as he dropped down on Prowl's lap. "Primus, I'm exhausted!" The SIC didn't take his gaze off of Jazz as Hightail buried his helm in his neck cables. "You should come and dance!"

Irritated that his chance to tell Prowl had been taken by Hightail yet AGAIN, Jazz stood from his chair and cleared his vocaliser. "See ya."

Hightail glanced up at the saboteur. "Oh, where are you going?"

"Over ta Blaster."

"Oh, we'll come too!" Hightail beamed, getting off of Prowl's lap and pulling him to his feet.

"That's okay." The saboteur practically fled before either tactician could say another word.

Blaster smiled when he saw his friend approach him. "Hey, mech. How's it goin'?"

"Like slag." Jazz muttered grumpily, glaring irately at the floor.

Blaster, Hound and Bumblebee were standing in a loose circle, and Bumblebee stood back to give Jazz some room to stand. The saboteur offered the little spy a thankful smile and moved to stand beside Blaster. Hound frowned, looking concerned. "Is everything alright, Jazz? You haven't seemed like yourself recently."

"Ah'm fine." The saboteur assured his friends, relaxing slightly.

"Did Eject and Rewind get a chance t' talk t' ya?"

"No. Ah don't think Ah need ta talk t' them anymore anyway." Jazz shrugged, glancing at the cassette deck.

And then Hightail's voice rang out. "Hey guys, back with Prowl!" He announced, pulling the stoic tactician after him. An awkward silence fell over all them. Hound rubbed the back of his helm, Bumblebee bounced awkwardly on his feet, and Blaster coughed nervously. Hightail looked at them all and frowned. "Did I miss something?"

"No." Bumblebee said swiftly. "Miss what? What? No."

::Did you tell Bumblebee?!:: Jazz sent an encrypted comm. to Blaster, looking silently furious. ::Why is he actin' so weird?!::

::Ah may have let it slip accidentally, don't get mad!::

::To Hound, too?::

::Maybe...::

::How much did ya tell 'em?::

::Just that yo' two... y'know. Ah didn't mention the sparklin'.::

Barely containing his fury, Jazz's fingers curled into claws. "We are gonna have a chat later on." He said through gritted denta.

"Can't wait." Blaster winced.

Jazz tried to ignore Prowl's intense stare as Bumblebee began babbling about absolutely nothing. After a moment Hound joined in, clearly feeling sorry for the minibot.

Mere minutes later, Bumblebee and Hound were saved from their inane babble by an extremely overcharged Sideswipe. "Guys! Hi guys!" He grinned as he stumbled over to there small circle, shouting to be heard over the music. "Hey! How're ya doing?"

"Ow!" Jazz yelped as the overcharged frontliner threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. "Sides.."

"You're a great friend, ya know that?" Sideswipe slurred, leaning heavily on the smaller saboteur. "Great..."

"Where's Sunstreaker?" Jazz looked around, struggling to keep the red twin upright.

"Not here." Sideswipe mumbled, draining half a cube of high-grade.

Jazz wondered helplessly where he had gotten the cube from. "Well, where is he?"

"Quarters. Mad at me." Sideswipe was slurring quite badly by this stage.

"Right." Jazz glanced helplessly at his friends for help, but they all simply watched the exchange with ill-disguised amusement. Except Prowl, whose optics were narrowed in disapproval.

"But I'd better be going!" Sideswipe grinned before pressing a sloppy kiss to Jazz's cheekplates. The saboteur's face scrunched up in mild disgust, but he allowed it. "I'll see you guys tomoooorrow!"

Jazz rubbed Sideswipe's oral fluid off his cheek. "Dude, gross."

A drunken laugh spilled from the frontliner's lips, and he pulled Jazz closer. Ignoring the startled yelp, Sideswipe leaned in and kissed him properly.

A shocked, awkward silence fell over the entire group; despite the pulsing music, it seemed incredibly quiet. Jazz's hands flapped helplessly around Sideswipe's helm and shoulders, completely at a loss for what to do. A squeak escaped him when Sideswipe slipped his glossa into his mouth. Jazz pushed at Sideswipe's shoulders, but the large frontliner didn't seem to notice. "C'n sum'n h'lp m'?" He managed to say, although the words were painfully muffled.

There was barely a pause after his muffled plea for help before Sideswipe was yanked off him harshly. As he stumbled back with a gasp, Jazz caught sight of Prowl holding the red frontliner by the back of the neck; the ordinarily stoic tactician had a look of cold fury on his face. "I believe that counts as assault on a senior officer."

Jazz wiped his face and grimaced, pulling in deep intakes of air. "Jeez, Sides. That was.. gross."

"You liked it." Sideswipe slurred, grinning.

"_Brig_." Prowl growled, tugging the warrior away none-too-gently. He was followed by Hightail, who walked practically on his heels.

The moment the three mechs were out the door, Bumblebee and Blaster simultaneously burst into laughter. "Oh Primus, did you see Prowl's face?" The minibot bounced gleefully.

Jazz gaped at his friends in shock. "What-?"

Obviously taking pity on the bewildered saboteur, Hound spoke up. "Bumblebee decided it would be a great idea to pay Sideswipe to kiss you in front of Prowl, just to see his reaction. It was... quite funny, actually."

"Ya _didn't_." Jazz turned to stare at the devious little minibot in pure surprise. "Bee!"

"It was so worth it!" Bumblebee insisted, grinning madly. "Oh, you didn't see his face! He looked so shocked and angry! I think the fact that it was Sideswipe doing the kissing just made the whole situation worse."

A disbelieving laugh escaped the stunned saboteur and he shook his head. "Yo' are all insane. Was Sideswipe even overcharged at all?"

"No." Blaster laughed, shaking his helm. "He just really wanted those credits."

"Yo'- Ah don't even- Primus, Ah'm goin' t' berth." He groaned, shaking his helm. Feeling the beginning of a processor-ache starting to form, Jazz backed away from his friends, calling his goodbyes over his shoulder.


	6. Chapter 6

Jazz had lost his patience.

Every attempt he had made to try and tell Prowl he was sparked had been foiled by Hightail. "Stupid mech." The saboteur snarled furiously as he stalked down the corridor. The tactical department was straight up ahead, and he was determined to tell Prowl today, no matter what. His menacing aura was somewhat diminished by the bulge of his abdominal plating. He entered his TIC command codes into the keypad by the door, and barged in.

The tactical command centre was a fairly recent addition to the Iaconian Base. The high-tech computers running all around the walls were perfect for battle and tactic simulations, and there was a large table in the middle of the room for the tacticians to discuss their plans.

Jazz spotted the tactician he was looking for almost immediately; Prowl's regal doorwings stood out amongst the boringly standard frames of the other 'bots in the room. A flash of annoyance shot through Jazz at the sight of Hightail practically hanging out of the Praxian. Ignoring the surprised looks from everyone else in the tactical command centre, Jazz called "Hey!" as he strode towards Prowl at the back of the room.

The same surprised expression that was on every other tacticians face crossed Prowl's when he saw the saboteur marching towards him. "Jazz?"

"Ah need t' talk t' ya." The saboteur announced, coming to a stop in front of him.

Hightail glanced up, frowning slightly. "We are working on a plan."

"Ah don't care, shut up." Jazz snapped, barely casting the taller blue mech a glance.

"Jazz!" Prowl frowned at the TIC in shock. He had never seen the saboteur act so unfriendly to anyone else but him. "What has gotten into you?"

"Ah need t' talk to ya!" Jazz insisted, glaring around at everyone staring at them.

"Very well." Still frowning curiously, Prowl stood from the table and moved to follow Jazz.

"Wait, we weren't finished the plan!" Hightail protested, reaching after the two mechs.

Prowl paused, trying to ignore Jazz's glare. "We will finish it later." The insistent tugging on his arm caused him to glance at Jazz, who was pouting impatiently. He motioned with his hand, before following the smaller mech out of the tactical command centre.

The corridor was empty, and Jazz carefully made sure the door was fully closed before turning to face the tactician. "Hi."

"What is this about?" Prowl's frown didn't disappear, but his face relaxed slightly.

"It's about that thing I wanted to tell you." Jazz said, shifting nervously on his feet. "But Hightail kept fraggin' interrupting!"

A half-amused smile quirked up the corners of his mouth. "Yes, he has a tendency to do that. But you may tell me now."

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay." A nervous laugh escaped Jazz, and he fiddled with his hands. "Ah'm just gonna say it, 'kay?"

"Okay." Prowl waited expectantly.

"Um.. This is actually a big deal, and Ah really don't want ya t' crash."

"Why would I crash?" A frown stole over his face once more.

"Ah'm sparked." Jazz blurted quickly, before cringing slightly and waiting for a reaction.

The tactician blinked, stiffening slightly. Though he looked surprised, he showed no signs of actually crashing, which was good. "...Sparked."

"Yeah." Clearing his vocaliser of the nervous static that had collected, Jazz offered the taller mech an awkward smile. "Um.. So-"

"Congratulations."

The cold tone of voice was not what Jazz had been expecting, and he frowned. "Um.. What Ah'm sayin' is-"

"I understand what you are saying. I will not engage in any interfacing activities with you from now on. I suspect you also wish to be removed from the work roster?"

Bewildered, Jazz stared at the taller mech. "Wha'? That's not what Ah- wait, what are ya talkin' 'bout?"

A frustrated huff of air escaped the tactician's vocaliser, revealing his anger for the first time. "I did not realise that you had another interfacing partner."

Jazz was so dumbstruck that he couldn't even gather his thoughts enough to form a coherent protest.

"I suppose I should have guessed, considering it was you." Prowl murmured; it seemed like he was more talking to himself than to Jazz.

The saboteur stiffened, his mouth settling into a hard line. "Excuse meh? What's tha' supposed t' mean?"

"You are practically famous throughout the Autobot forces for being promiscuous!"

Jazz jerked back as though he had been physically struck. Despite his best efforts to remain calm and composed, he found angry coolant tears beginning to brim behind his optic shutters. "How could ya say that?"

"It is a well known fact!" Prowl didn't seem to realise he was upsetting the carrying mech as he continued. "I simply did not expect you to be so careless as to allow yourself to become sparked."

His ventilations were coming quick in his anger, and Jazz found the tears spilling over and streaming down his face. "It was hardly mah fault! Ah never wanted this ta happen! Ah don't want a sparklin'!"

"Well, perhaps you should have thought of that!"

"Are ya fraggin' kiddin' meh?!" Jazz was almost screaming now, and he didn't even care. "The only reason Ah told ya was 'cause Ratchet and Optimus both told meh Ah should-"

"As your superior, you would be required to follow protocol and report such medical information to me immediately-"

"Will ya shut up about protocol?! This is fraggin' important! Do ya not get that it was you who-"

"If protocol had been followed, I very much doubt that you would be standing here and screaming at me. You may interface with whomever you choose, I just did not realise that I was not the only mech with whom you were intimate with."

"Prowl?" Much to the saboteur's fury, the door slid open to the tactical command centre and Hightail poked his helm out. "Are you nearly finished?"

"Nearly." The SIC promised wearily, waving at Hightail to return inside. Once they were alone again, he turned his attention back to Jazz. "Congratulations on the sparkling, Jazz. Tell whomever the sire is that I wish them the best of luck."

"Prowl, _listen_ t' meh-"

"Please do not contact me for anything other than work."

Thoroughly dismayed, Jazz rested his hands over his abdomen as the tactician turned his back on him and returned into the tactical command centre.

...

"So what you're saying is, you never actually got to tell him that he's the sire?" Ratchet sighed wearily, watching his patient drink the specially engineered energon.

Scowling, Jazz lowered the cube from his face. "Ah tried! He's a stubborn fragger when he wants t' be. He barely let meh say anything! And then he basically called meh slutty."

The medic's optic ridges shot up his forehead so far they almost disappeared. "I'm sorry, he _what_?"

"He seemed t' think that Ah was fraggin' some other bot, and then said he shouldn't be surprised 'cause everyone knows Ah'm promiscuous."

Clearly picking up on the undertone of hurt in the saboteur's voice, Ratchet sighed and squeezed the visored mech's shoulder reassuringly. "He was upset. I know he isn't usually so blinded by emotions, but I dare say this was a rather upsetting moment for him."

"But can't his fraggin' battle computer tell him that _he's_ the only logical option t' be the sire?! He's the only one without a Spark Energy Modulator! And he's the only one Ah was fraggin'..."

"I know. I think he's in a small bit of denial."

"Whatever." Jazz looked away sulkily, before sighing deeply. "Thanks for lettin' meh vent, Ratch."

"It's okay." The medic murmured as he ran a quick scan over the carrier. "Considering this means the chances of you getting regular transfluid donations from the sire are now quite low, I'll ask Wheeljack to begin working on a special form of energon."

"Thanks, Ratch... Yo' amazing." With a sigh, the saboteur hopped off the berth he had been perched on and promptly hugged the medic.

Ratchet froze, staring down at the smaller saboteur. He was being cuddled. "It seems your mood swings are starting. Fantastic."

"Mood swings?"

"It's just the excess cybernucleic acid that the sparkling doesn't need to absorb that will be affecting your moods. Just.. try to control yourself. And please don't carry around weapons."

"Whatever. Ah'm goin' t' the rec. room."

"I'm not sure you should-"

The protest was lost as the medbay doors slid shut behind the saboteur. Smiling to himself, he made his way down the corridors. He noticed he was walking strangely, almost leaning back so as to alleviate some of the pressure on his spinal struts.

"Jazz! Hey, I was looking for you!"

The saboteur glanced around, and smiled tiredly. "Oh, hey Sideswipe. How's it goin'?"

The red twin jogged up to him and shrugged. "I was gonna ask you the same question, actually."

"Really?"

"Yep. May I assist you to the rec. room?"

"Uh.."

Like a gentlemech, Sideswipe slipped his arm around Jazz's and began to lead the smaller mech down the corridors. "Now, word has it that you're sparked." Choosing to ignore the surprised jerk his words elicited from the carrying mech, the frontliner continued swiftly. "I just thought you were getting upgrades on your abdominal armour. Now, I don't know who the sire is, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, it's fine. I was just curious; do you know if the sparklet is a mech or a femme yet?"

"No, Ah don't." Jazz said firmly, managing to regain some of his composure. "Ah can walk mahself t' the rec. room now, thank you."

"Don't worry about it, we're nearly there! I just wanted you to know, if anyone gives you trouble, just tell me or Sunny."

That caused Jazz to pause, and stare up at the warrior in surprise. "Huh?"

"Yeah. We'll take care of 'em." He playfully mimed punching someone with his free hand.

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Jazz wrapped his arms firmly around the larger mech. Tears began streaming down his face as he hugged Sideswipe tightly. "Thank you so much."

"Uhh... It's no problem." Clearly uncertain as to what to do, the red twin began to pat Jazz's back struts. "C'mon, we're nearly at the rec. room."

But Jazz didn't move; he just continued to clutch at Sideswipe in a hug. "That's so nice though. Thank ya so much."

"Seriously, it's fine." Clearly figuring that Jazz wasn't going to be going anywhere on his own for at least a while, Sideswipe scooped the smaller mech up and marched the short remaining distance to the rec. room.

When they entered, Sunstreaker, who had been sitting by the door to await his twins arrival, jumped to his feet upon seeing Jazz. "Dude, did you make him cry?! What the frag!"

"No, I think he's just super emotional!" Sideswipe protested, setting the saboteur on his feet.

Sniffling, Jazz wiped his tears and peered up at Sunstreaker. "That was a very kind offer."

"What was? To beat up anyone who gave you hassle? It's.. fine, you're our friend- whoa!" Sunstreaker's optics widened as the smaller mech threw himself at him and latched on in a hug. "Um.. Watch the paint.."

"Thank you..." He sniffed.

"Jazz?" Blaster's voice called out, sounding confused. The tape deck approached the three of them, his gaze fixed on his best friend. "You okay, mech?"

"I think he's over-emotional today."

"Frag." Blaster barely resisted the urge to groan. This was going to be interesting to deal with.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sooo... I'm home alone and sick and extremely bored, so I decided to update early! Seriously, I have nothing at all to do, it's driving me insane. So here we go! I would absolutely love it if you could leave a review, too! Thank you!**

"So, will ya join us tonight?"

"No." Jazz said stubbornly, folding his arms over his swollen stomach area. Thankfully, the rec. room was mostly empty, so there weren't many mechs to openly gawk at him as he lay sprawled across the couch.

"C'mon mech." Despite himself, Blaster was now pleading in an effort to get his friend to act even a little bit cordial towards Hightail. Though Jazz hadn't said anything, it was blatantly obvious exactly why his dislike was so strong for the junior tactician. Anytime Hightail was in the company of Prowl, nervous and expectant looks were cast to Jazz, looking for a reaction.

It was no secret now that the TIC had been growing closer to Prowl until they had fought. Nor was the fact that he was sparked a secret. And yet, despite this and all the raging betting pools about who the sire may be, no one had yet to consider Prowl. Other than Blaster, but he had been banned from the betting pools by the saboteur.

Sometimes, Jazz had to simply marvel at the sheer stupidity of some mechs. "No." He said firmly, looking away from Blaster. "Not if he's gonna be there."

"But ya always come t' movie night! Ya could at least pretend not t' be bothered by him-"

"No, Ah can't!" Hissing angrily, Jazz actually rose a little from his chair. "Ya know Ah can't! Ah'm gonna end up punchin' him in the faceplates!"

With a frustrated groan, the tape deck massaged his forehelm in an attempt to ward off his approaching processor ache. "Look buddy, just come along for a while. If ya feel uncomfortable, ya can leave. Ya don't even have t' talk t' anyone! In fact, Ah'd love it if ya could watch over the cassettes for me."

"The cassettes?"

"Yeah. Sometimes they just need someone to watch them, even when they're watchin' a movie. Would ya mind?"

There was a pause, and the visored mech looked away as he thought it through. "Ah guess. But only 'cause ya want meh to."

Clearly relieved, Blaster expelled a large gust of air from his vents and stood up. "Better get goin', then. We're watchin' some horror vid at Hound and Cliffjumper's quarters."

"Help meh up." The carrying mech muttered grouchily, holding out his hands. He grunted as he was hauled to his feet, before stretching his hands high up over his head. "Ugh."

"Gettin' big." The tape deck pointed out cheerfully, grinning as he started making his way to the door of the rec. room.

"Shut up." Barely resisting the urge to smack his friend upside the helm, Jazz stalked after him and into the corridor.

"Ah'm just sayin'. Your stomach armour's gonna have to be removed soon enough."

"Ain't no one gonna take away mah stomach armour." Jazz snapped furiously, marching quickly to keep pace with the taller red mech. "Ah need that. To protect mah stomach."

Shooting his friend a sharp frown, Blaster shook his helm. "Mech, the li'l sparklet needs t' grow. You're just gonna end up stuntin' its growth."

"So you're sayin' Ah'm gonna end up with a short sparklin'?"

"Well, it's probably gonna be short anyway, considerin' your own height."

Jazz stopped dead, staring at the tape deck. Once Blaster realised that he was walking on his own, he stopped and turned back around. "Excuse meh? Say that again, please."

"Uh.." A wince crossed the Communication Officer's face when he realised he had pissed the sparked mech off. "That was just a joke, Ah swear."

"Oh, really? Maybe Ah just didn't understand the punch-line. Repeat it for meh, please."

"C'mon, Jazz.. Ah was just jokin'."

"It. Wasn't. _Funny_!" With a snarl, Jazz pulled back his arm and punched his friend hard in the face. As the taller mech stumbled back, Jazz whirled on one foot and continued his marching down the hall. He could hear footsteps hurrying after him, but Blaster kept his distance, apparently worrying for his own safety.

Even when Jazz had reached Hound and Cliff's quarters and hammered on the door, the tape deck left a large space between them.

The door slid open, and Hound grinned out at them. "Hey, Jazz! How's it going?"

"Fine." The word was clipped, and Jazz began tapping his foot impatiently as he waited to be let in.

Taking the hint, the green scout stepped aside and raised an optic ridge as the normally friendly TIC stormed passed him. Shifting his attention to Blaster, his grin slipped off his face. "Primus, are you okay?"

"Ah'm fine. Jazz just lost his temper." Blaster murmured, following his smaller companion into the room. Mirage, the twins, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Tracks and the cassette twins were already there and seated comfortably.

"Jazz lost his temper?" Hound couldn't help his surprise; the saboteur's infamous patience was almost enough to rival Prowl's, although in an admittedly different fashion. As Head of Special Ops, it was necessary to have a high level of patience, particularly in high stress infiltration missions.

"Don't ask." The Communication Officer muttered, catching sight of Jazz circling the room. He cautiously edged closer to his friend, although remained out of punching distance. "Hey.. Jazz? Sorry about.. uh.. what Ah said. Ah didn't mean it."

The saboteur turned with a wry smile across his face. "It's fine. Don't worry 'bout it." His smile slipped off suddenly as he caught sight of the taller mech's face. "Blaster, yo' nose is leakin' energon."

"Hm? Oh." Blaster touched his nasal ridge and winced, before forcing a laugh. "Ya punch pretty hard."

A look of horror crossed the TIC's face, and he covered his mouth with his hands. "Oh my Primus... Ah'm so sorry. Ah'm.. oh Primus, Ah'm a horrible person."

Everyone in the room had stopped their conversations and were now watching Jazz's reactions intently. Barely anyone even noticed Hound greeting Prowl and Hightail and welcoming them into the room.

"Nah, Ah'm fine. Seriously, just a little energon. Nothin' t' worry about."

Suddenly bursting into tears, Jazz covered his face and launched himself at Blaster. "Ah'm so s-sorry! Ah dunno what came over me, Ah didn't mean ta, Ah swear! Sorry, Ah shouldn't have-"

"Whoa, calm down." The tape deck soothed, casting a panicked glance around at the completely unhelpful audience. "Don't cry, mech. It was an accident."

"It wasn't an accident! Ah did it on purpose! Because ya were really annoyin' meh 'bout the armour thing, and then ya were suddenly insultin' mah height," his voice was getting steadily louder and angrier, "-and the sparklin's height too, and it's not even been born yet! That's why Ah punched ya in the face!" Jazz was yelling now, with his coolant tears streaming down his face and leaving glowing tracks in their wake. "And ya called meh fat, too! So now Ah sorta think ya deserved t' be punched in the face!"

"You aren't an organic; you can't actually gain fatty substances-"

There were a few yelps and gleeful laughs as Jazz drew back his arm to punch the red mech again, but before he could do anything Hound had leapt forwards and grabbed both his arms. "Okay! Maybe you two should sit down! The movie is starting!"

"Yeah, good idea." Blaster practically fled to the other side of the room and inserted himself in between Bumblebee and Tracks on one of the berths.

Still furious, Jazz turned and made his way over to sit down on a spare couch. Both berths were occupied by Cliffjumper, Mirage, the twins and now Blaster, so the saboteur stalked over to one of the couches and sat down in between the cassette twins. Crossing his arms across his bulging abdomen grumpily, he began to glare at the view screen that had been set up on the wall. He couldn't even be bothered to start wondering how Cliffjumper had managed to procure such an obviously non-standard piece of furniture.

With his advanced Special Ops hearing, Jazz could acutely hear the newly arrived Hightail whispering "Is he okay? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing." Both Prowl and Hound whispered back quickly, clearly hoping Jazz hadn't heard him. The green scout cleared his vocaliser and gestured. "You can take a seat on the berth next to Cliff and Mirage if you want, and I'll sit next to Blaster and the twins."

As everyone took their seats, Jazz maintained his glare and tried not to be bothered by the fact that Prowl and Hightail were sitting on a berth together. He also tried not to think about how Hightail had managed to get the SIC out of his office and to a social event like this. No one else had ever managed such a feat. It was clear that the cassette twins had noticed the saboteur's mood, because Eject nudged him slightly and flashed his visor cheerfully at him. "How're you doing?"

"Fine."

Undeterred by the clipped answer, Rewind tilted his helm at the older mech and whispered "Can I touch it?"

"Wha'?" Startled, the word came out far louder than it was meant to, and the three of them were quickly subjected to curious stares.

"Everythin' okay?" Blaster called worriedly from his place on Hound's berth.

"Uh.. Yeah." The saboteur replied quickly, never tearing his gaze off of the mostly black cassette. He lowered his voice again to regain some privacy. "Touch... wha'?"

"Your stomach plates. Where your gestation chamber is."

Completely bemused, Jazz could just stare and open his mouth slightly. "Ah.. Ah guess? But.. Why would ya want ta?"

At almost the exact same time, the twins curiously set their hands on the distended abdomen and began softly patting it. Surprisingly, it felt quite relaxing, and Jazz found the tension he hadn't even realised he had melting from his body as he slowly melted back into the couch. He didn't even notice the movie coming on, nor the mechs chatting away behind him. He was focusing entirely on the gentle massage on one of the most stretched parts of his whole body, and how nice it felt.

A glint of amusement flashed through Rewind's visor as he watched the sparked mech's reactions. "We used to do this for carrier when he was carrying Steeljaw whenever he was getting grumpy."

"Ah'm not grumpy." The saboteur mumbled grouchily.

"I know." The cassette soothed, beginning to half-watch the movie out of the corner of his optic.

Noticing this, Jazz gave a small smile and took one of each of their small hands in each of his. "Ah'm fine now, thanks guys. Ya can watch the movie."

"Thanks!" Eject said. He had retracted his face mask and was now grinning comfortably at the screen.

His twin did the same, although instead of leaning back into the couch, Rewind shifted closer to the black and white saboteur and curled up into his side. "Do you feel better now?"

Unable to stop the soft smile spreading across his face, Jazz wrapped an arm around the little data-disk and hugged him back. "Yeah kiddo, Ah do. Thanks. Ya can watch the movie now, if ya want."

Jazz became bored of the movie exceptionally quickly. It was all about the Necrobot and how he raised armies of undead Cybertronians to take revenge against the functioning. Soon enough, the saboteur was drifting into a doze.

He was awoken suddenly by someone burying the face in the crook between his belly and his chassis. Sleepily raising an optic ridge under his visor, he whispered "Rewind? You okay?"

"Rewind's afraid of the Necrobot!" Eject jeered, laughing at the sight of his twin hiding his face. From behind them, there were a few laughs from the berths.

"It's just a movie, Rewind. It's not real." Cliffjumper called from one of the berths, clearly trying to stifle a laugh.

"Hey, you okay?" Clearly concerned, Bumblebee was trying to catch a glimpse of the scared cassette. "It's alright, I used to be afraid of the Necrobot too."

"Maybe someone should take him outside. He shouldn't be watching this if it scares him." Hightail spoke up, watching the small bot with concern.

Barely resisting the urge to snap at the blue tactician about how his input was unappreciated, Jazz motioned at them all sharply to hush. He bent down slightly so Rewind was the only one who could hear him if he chose to speak, and began gently running his fingers along the youngling's neck and back struts. He said nothing, and eventually the cassette raised his helm and stared at the bigger mech through his visor. Jazz smiled, and gently stroked the little bot's helm. "You okay?" He asked quietly.

"I don't like this movie." Rewind whispered weakly. He didn't look at the screen, and he couldn't bring himself to look at the other mechs in the room, so he kept his gaze evenly on Jazz.

"Yeah, Ah'm not too into it either." The saboteur shrugged delicately. "Ah was gonna leave, actually. Do ya wanna come wit' meh? It's cool if ya wanna stay here-"

"No! No, I'll come!" A heavy vent of relieved air escaped the cassette's vents, and he scrambled quickly to his feet.

Without getting up, Jazz glanced around to the mechs on the berths. "Yeah, Ah'm gonna head off. Rewind's comin' with meh. Guess Ah'll see you all tomorrow. You comin'?" He gently nudged Eject and tilted his helm questioningly.

"Are you kidding? It's getting to the best part!" The blue cassette exclaimed, pointing dramatically to the view screen.

The saboteur snorted, before beginning to heave himself off the couch. He winced slightly when he stood as several of his back struts cracked into place. "Ow."

The moment that tiny exclamation of mild discomfort left his lips, the room exploded. Almost every bot jumped to their feet and began reaching for Jazz, and panicked questions were shouted out like rapid fire.

"Are you okay-?!"

"-something gone wrong?"

"-the sparkling moving?"

"What if the sparkling's coming NOW-"

"Somebody call Ratchet!"

Wincing at the noise, Jazz raised his voice to be heard over the clamour of all the idiots in the room. "AH'M FINE!" When the din died down, he glared around at everyone. The only mech who did not look panicked was Prowl; he simply looked exasperated with the rest of the mechs in the room. "Primus, Ah can't even fraggin' stand up off a couch without people makin' a stupid fuss. C'mon, Rewind."

The cassette scampered after the carrier as he stalked angrily out of the room. After a few moments of marching in silence, Rewind spoke up. "So.. Where are we going?"

A rush of air escaped Jazz's vents as he gave a small sigh. "Ah'm kinda tired, so Ah was gonna head back t' my quarters."

"Can I stay over with you tonight?" The cassette whispered, looking pitifully scared. "It's just... I don't think the others will be back for another while, and Steeljaw and Ramhorn are on a recon mission.. I don't want to be on my own."

"It's cool, li'l mech. Ya can stay if ya want. Make sure Blaster knows, though."

"Thank you." Rewind hugged the grown mech's leg as they approached the officers quarters. The TIC just grinned and patted his head as he typed in his code with his spare hand. The first to enter the room was Rewind, and he bounced over to the couch and jumped on it.

Smiling slightly, Jazz followed, though he made a beeline for the berth and promptly fell on it, groaning. "Sorry, li'l mech. Ah'm really tired, so Ah think Ah'm jus gonna sleep."

"That's okay." The cassette assured, scampering over and climbing onto the berth. Curling up into Jazz's side, he offlined his visor and cuddled closer. "I'm tired too."

Barely able to stifle a laugh at that, Jazz drifted into recharge, subconsciously holding the scared cassette close.

...

Jazz slid Mirage's most recent mission report across Prowl's desk, and watched the tactician for a reaction. Barely glancing up, Prowl took the datapad and looked over it swiftly, before looking up at Jazz. "That is fine, you may leave now."

"Ah wanted t' talk t' ya."

"If it is not about work, then I will have to decline."

"Ya need t' _listen_ t' meh! Ah ain't fraggin' anyone else-"

"Jazz, I have no wish to talk about this!" The tactician hissed, shaking his helm. "Whomever you interface with is your business-"

"Ugh!" In his anger, Jazz turned and punched the wall. It seemed he had underestimated his strength, because his fist went straight through the smooth metal with a harsh tearing sound.

"Jazz!"

Irritated, the saboteur tugged his arm out of the wreckage of the wall. "Lucky it wasn't Hightail's face."

"That is quite enough!"

"No, it ain't! Why won't ya listen t' meh?!"

"Because you have nothing to say that I want to hear!"

"How do ya know if ya haven't heard what Ah want t' say yet?!"

Taking a deep intake, Prowl put his helm in his hands. "Ratchet gave me very specific orders not to put you under any stress. It seems that you are stressed right now, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave so you can calm yourself."

"Oh, frag off."

"I swear, I will call someone to remove you from my office!"

"Just listen t' meh!"

"I have enough to do without you bothering me further. It seems that the arrival of a sparkling includes finding larger quarters for yourself and the sire, having low-grade sparkling energon ordered in from Vos, getting-"

"Don't bother, Ah ain't keepin' it." Jazz sighed, massaging his visor in a weak attempt to calm himself down.

The tactician paused, glancing up at Jazz in surprise. "Pardon?"

"Ah ain't keepin' it!"

"What about the other creator?"

A cruel snort escaped the saboteur, and he glared at the wall. "He don't care."

Forcibly preventing himself from correcting his comrades grammar, Prowl frowned. "Well. That.. certainly removes a great deal of paperwork."

With a sigh, Jazz stood up and rested his hands on his swollen bump. "When you're ready t' listen t' what Ah have to say, come find me."

Prowl watched his fellow officer waddle out of his office, an unfamiliar emotion thrumming in his spark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Gah, I apologise for the lateness of this chapter. Life just caught up to me there.. Here's the next chapter, anyway. I'd like to thank aradow and Grace (guest) for their wonderful reviews**!

**Thank you so much everyone for reading!**

"_RATCHET_!"

The medic sighed and looked up from where he was repairing Wheeljack's scorched wiring as Jazz skidded into the medbay, looking panicked. "What is it this time?"

"Ah think it's comin' early, Ah don't know what's happenin'!" The carrying mech spoke quickly, his words tumbling over each other.

"Calm down and tell me what happened."

"It- Ah don't know, it's movin' around and then Ah think it kicked me, an'-"

"Calm DOWN!" Ratchet yelled, having enough of the panic. "Kicking is normal. It just shows that the sparkling is healthy and active."

Vents still heaving, Jazz stared hard at the medic as he placed a hand over his gestation chamber. "So... It ain't tryin' t' get out?"

"No, it isn't. I've told you a million times! You will know when it's time!"

"Okay, okay. It just.. freaked me out a little."

"Understandable. But there's nothing wrong. The sparkling was just stretching. Now unless there's something else you need, I'm busy."

"Yeah, 'kay. Hey, 'Jack." Jazz grumbled as he retreated out of the medbay. He didn't remove his hand from its place over his swollen abdomen as he walked, waiting for the sparkling to kick again.

A little bit down the corridors, Jazz's ankle joints began to ache and he groaned. Stopping to lean against a wall, he attempted to alleviate some of the stress on the joints by massaging them. He let out another groan when he realised how far away the rec. room was.

As if on cue, someone rounded the corner. Eagerly looking up, Jazz almost took no notice of who it was before calling out. "Hey, Prowl! Can ya carry meh to the rec. room?"

The Praxian paused, doorwings twitching in pure confusion and surprise. "Pardon?"

"Please, mah ankle joints are killin' me and the rec. room is still AGES away from here."

"I-"

"PLEASE!"

"Alright! Very well." Prowl said quickly, wincing at how loud the saboteur had yelled. Approaching uncertainly, he paused just in front of the smaller mech. Catching sight of the glare levelled his way, Prowl quickly scooped the expectant saboteur up in a bridal style hold, grunting slightly under the weight. Smiling contentedly as Prowl began to carry him towards the rec. room, Jazz lay his head on the tactician's chestplates and rested his hands over his gestation chamber again.

After a few moments of walking in silence, Jazz yelped and clutched at his abdomen, optics wide under his visor. Prowl stopped dead in the middle of the corridor. Smiling widely, Jazz gazed up at the Praxian. "Did ya feel that?" He asked excitedly, almost bouncing in the bigger mech's arms.

"Feel.. what?"

"The sparklin' kicked again!"

"How would _I_ have felt that?" Prowl frowned bemusedly down at the excited saboteur.

Ignoring Prowl's lack of enthusiasm, Jazz insisted the Praxian put him down for a minute. Once he was standing again, he grabbed one of Prowl's servos and placed it firmly over his rounded belly. "Wait for it."

Embarrassed by the intimacy of their current stance, Prowl glanced around to ensure there was no one else in the corridor. His attention snapped back, however, when he felt Jazz's belly move. It was as though something beneath the plating had nudged at it. "Was that..?"

"It was the sparklin'!" Jazz beamed. "He's sayin' hello."

They stayed there for another few minutes; Prowl found himself transfixed by the feeling of new life growing within the other mech. Finally, he remembered he was still angry with the other mech, and pulled himself out of his trance to glance at the saboteur emotionlessly. "Do you still wish to go to the rec. room?"

"Nah, Ah'm tired now." Jazz sighed, still gazing down at his abdomen. He raised his head after a moment and tilted it to the side. "Could ya take meh to mah quarters?"

"Yes."

Once again Jazz was lifted into his arms, and once again they set off down the corridors.

The saboteur buried his helm into Prowl's neck cables and began cuddling him, much to the Praxian's chagrined discomfort. Calming pulses of contentment had begun radiating through Jazz's body, and it took him a few moments to realise it was coming from the sparkling. It took him another few moments to realise it was because of the proximity to Prowl. "Do ya feel happy?"

"Pardon?"

"Do ya feel happy? Like, right now."

"I suppose I do. Illogically so, all things considered."

So the sparkling was affecting its sire through its faint link with him, too. Cool.

All too soon, they had arrived at Jazz's quarters. Faintly disappointed, the saboteur glanced up at the taller mech as he was set on his feet again. "D'you wanna come in?"

"No. I arranged to meet Hightail in the rec. room to discuss battle tactics for our upcoming battle in Simfur."

"Right. Okay." Trying not to look disappointed, and probably failing, Jazz turned and keyed in his code. As the door slid open to allow him entrance, he turned back and forced a smile. "See ya. Tell Hightail Ah said hi."

"Jazz?"

"Mm?"

Looking slightly uncomfortable, Prowl frowned slightly. "About the sparkling.. Do you still plan on giving it up?"

The saboteur stilled, and simply stared back at him from the doorway of his quarters. "Um.. Yeah."

"It's just.. You seemed so excited about the movement within your gestation chamber-"

"Well, it was a new experience. It felt kinda weird. Ah still gotta give it up. It'll be way happier in a Youth Centre than here, in the middle of a war."

"I see." The SIC murmured, still gazing at the swollen belly of his comrade. He sighed and joined his hands behind his back, unable to argue with Jazz's logic. "Very well. It is none of my business anyway."

...

"You are staying here, Jazz."

"That ain't fair, Ah can fight!" The saboteur yelled, bouncing from foot to foot as he followed Optimus through the main hangar. "Ah'll show ya!"

"Jazz, you are carrying a sparkling. By going into battle, you would be endangering both your lives, and I cannot abide by that. You will remain here, and that's final.

"Ugh!" Jazz pouted as his commanding officer walked away to deal with his troops. He was so caught up in his sulking that he didn't even notice a black and white figure coming to stand beside him.

"He is right, you know."

Starting at the suddenness of the words, Jazz put a hand over his spark chamber and breathed out. "Are ya tryin' t' give meh a spark attack?!"

"No, that was not my intention. I simply thought you should know that going into battle in your condition is illogical."

"Right. Well, thanks." Scowling, Jazz looked away. After a moment, he spoke again. "Don't get slagged out there."

Curious, Prowl tilted his head at the smaller mech. "I will try my very best not to."

"Good." They both turned their heads as Optimus called for everyone to begin rolling out. Jazz ex-vented quickly, and stood up on the tips of his pedes to quickly press a chaste kiss on the tactician's lips. "Good luck."

Quickly turning to walk away, Jazz refused to look at the expression on Prowl's face. He just thanked Primus that everyone's attention had been focused on Prime. Everyone but Blaster, of course, who was grinning like an insane person over in the corner.

The saboteur practically sprinted from the crowded hangar, and once he was out in the corridor he let out a little giggle. Patting his abdominal plating he whispered "Ah just kissed yo' sire in front o' everyone! Even though he's probably still mad at me. But no one saw. Except Blaster. He's gonna be a nightmare about this."

Still grinning, Jazz set off down the corridor towards the rec. room, before remembering there would be no one there. He paused and frowned slightly, trying to decide where to go. Red Alert would be in the monitor room, but he had no desire to deal with the paranoid Security Director at that moment. First Aid, Ratchet's new apprentice, had been sent to the battle to help out, and also to test his worth in the field. In fact, now that Jazz thought about it, there were very few mechs or femmes on base that he could pass time with. Anyone left would be busy.

With a sigh, he began simply wandering down corridors aimlessly.

...

Everyone had left for Simfur hours ago, so he still had the corridors to himself. He had wandered around aimlessly for what seemed like forever, but it wasn't long before his ankle joints became tired and painful, and he had to stop and lean against a wall for a rest.

It was at that unfortunate moment that Hightail chose to appear from around the corner, beaming brightly. Catching sight of Jazz, the blue tactician called out excitedly. "Oh, hey! How come you're not at the battle?"

Very slowly and very pointedly, Jazz looked down at his swollen belly, then back at Hightail. "Why do ya _think_? And Ah could ask you the same question."

Looking appropriately embarrassed, the tactician hurried forward. "Oh. Prowl thought I might get in the way at the battle, so he told me to stay here. Would you like some help?"

"No. Go away."

Hightail paused, looking confused at the saboteur's gruff manner. "Would you like me to take you to the medbay?"

"No! Go away!"

Confused even further, Hightail watched the sparked mech rub at his ankle joints. After another moment of silent consideration, he spoke up again. "I think Ratchet should look at your ankle joints if they're paining you."

"Go. _Away_." The words were growled out, and Jazz shot him a furious glare.

"I can carry you there."

"Primus! Ah'll fraggin' go myself if it means you'll slag off and do somethin' useful wit' yo' time!" Furious beyond belief with the nosy mech's meddling, Jazz began his march down the corridor. He ignored the twinges of pain as he walked, determined to get away from the blue tactician.

But apparently, Hightail didn't want to be avoided. He followed the TIC easily, smiling cheerfully and acting as though he were a welcome presence.

Which he _wasn't_.

"So, are you excited about the sparkling?"

Jazz blatantly ignored the attempt at conversation, throwing all his attention into reaching the medbay before he could turn and stab Hightail in the face.

Undeterred by the obvious cold shoulder he was getting, Hightail continued. "I'd bet you are. The sire must be excited too. Well, of course he is. It's a sparkling, for Primus' sake! But it's unusual for a symbiotic holder to not carry the sparkling."

That caught Jazz's attention, and he cast a quick glance at the taller mech without slowing his pace. "Wha'?"

"Well, Blaster carried his previous sparklings, didn't he? How come you're carrying this one?"

Startled, Jazz slowed to a stop, staring at him with a slightly open mouth. "Blaster?"

"Yeah.. He carried his last four symbiotes. How come you're carrying this one?"

"Ah- Blaster-?" Still confused, Jazz shook his head. After another moment, he laughed and continued on his way to the medbay. "Blaster ain't the sire."

It was Hightail's turn to look confused. "He isn't..? But.. He was the most logical choice. There was a 76.435% chance that he was the sire."

Jazz pulled a face. "Gross. He's mah _friend_, Ah wouldn't frag him! Well, Ah have before, but we were both overcharged, so it don't count."

"But then.. Who _is_ the sire?"

"None o' yo' business. Would ya ever frag off?"

"But even _Prowl_ thought it was Blaster! Prowl rarely gets these things wrong.."

He didn't show any outward signs of surprise other than the slight brightening of his visor. So that was why Prowl got so irrationally angry at him about 'sleeping around'. His battle computer had spewed out statistics at him, and clearly Blaster had appeared to be a better candidate as the sire than Prowl himself. Jazz was willing to bet credits that the Head Tactician hadn't even added the variable of his lack of Spark Energy Modulator.

Oblivious to Jazz's line of thought, Hightail kept talking. "Damn, that means I've lost 150 credits. Ah, well. The second most popular option to be the sire was Sideswipe-"

"_Sideswipe_?!" Jazz choked, horrified at the thought. "Ew, ew, ew, _ew_. No. No fraggin' way. How was he even a plausible option?!"

"I had heard rumours that you had shared with him before."

"Well, Ah have, but that was before-" the saboteur broke off, shook himself, and rounded the corner ahead of his unwanted company. The medbay was just up ahead, in his sights.

"Before what?"

"Nothing, go away" were the last words Jazz snapped at him before slipping inside the medbay and slamming the door behind him. He paused to get his bearings, and winced when he realised how much his ankle joints hurt after the brisk walk over here.

"For frag's sake, what is it now?"

The grumpy voice of the CMO brought Jazz back to his surroundings, and he whimpered slightly as he allowed himself to be pulled over to a medical berth and shoved up onto it. He could see a startled look briefly cross Ratchet's face at the whimper, but it vanished quickly. "Hurts.."

"What does?"

"Mah ankles and pedes."

"Hmm.. I'll look at those in a moment." Ratchet scanned over Jazz's body quickly, and checked the results. "You're fragging underfueled again! I thought I told you to stay fueled!"

"It's hard!" Jazz shot back defensively, curling into himself slightly. "Ah'm wastin' energy on nothin', Ah can't figure out where it's all goin'!"

The medbay doors slid open and Sideswipe shuffled in. "Hey, guys!" He called cheerfully, grinning as he made his way towards Jazz. "Just got back! That was an awesome battle!"

"Anyone hurt?" The saboteur asked casually enough, but Ratchet could feel the tension in his body.

"Nah, not really. There were a few nasty injuries, but First Aid took care of them pretty well. Prowl's plan was pretty sound; he predicted practically every move the Decepticons would make! It was awesome!"

"Sounds great." Ratchet grumbled. He frowned at something on Jazz's scan results. "I know I said that the engineered energon with ore additives would do, but you need more transfluid. It's better for the sparkling, and honestly, I thought you would have been fragged again by this stage. Primus, what's taking you so long? Just go up to someone and spread your legs; there are a lot of mechs who wouldn't hesitate to jump your circuits."

A choking noise came from the door, and the three mechs turned to see Optimus and Prowl in the doorway. Apparently, it was the SIC that had made the choking noise upon hearing Ratchet's comment, as Optimus was looking mildly amused as he gazed down at the tactician. The Prime glanced back to Jazz, whose face had flushed with energon, and gave him a nod. "We heard you were in the medbay and decided to check in. I am glad to hear you are unharmed and well."

"Yep. My pedes still hurt a li'l though."

"Well, you're not getting a fragging massage from me." The medic grouched, eyeing the carrier's pedes curiously. "Huh. Those ankles actually look quite painful."

"Yeah.." Jazz shrugged, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back lightly. He groaned slightly and relaxed back again. "Feels like slag."

"Hmm. Rest them."

"Rest them? That's all you got to say?!" The saboteur snapped irritably, resting his hands on his distended abdomen.

"I believe Ratchet's medical advice should prove to be sound, as usual." Optimus spoke up. He winced slightly as his TIC turned his burning glare on him.

"Too many people in my medbay." Ratchet pointed out suddenly. "Sideswipe, get out."

"What? Why me?"

"Because the others are high-ranking officers. Now get out."

As the red twin retreated from the room with much grumbling, everyone turned back to Jazz. The sparked mech sighed. "Can Ah leave now too?"

"Maybe you should stay the night-" Ratchet began, eyeing his patient.

"Nope." Jazz swung his legs off the berth, shaking his helm. "No thanks. Ah'll just be leavin' now."

"Don't walk on those pedes!" The medic snapped irritably, stopping the saboteur from getting off the berth. "You'll only make the swelling worse."

"Ah hate this!" The TIC exploded, fisting his hands furiously and banging them down on the table.

"I know, it's not pleasant." Ratchet said absently, noting something down on a datapad. "Deal with it, it'll be over soon enough."

Chassis heaving in a sigh, the saboteur scowled. "Ah wanna go back t' mah quarters."

"One of you carry him there." Ratchet commanded, gesturing at Prowl and Optimus. When neither of them moved except to glance at each other and then Jazz, the medic snarled. "That was a medical order!"

Moving slightly reluctantly, Prowl approached the sparked mech and hesitated slightly. "Er.."

Rolling his optics behind his visor exasperatedly, Jazz stretched out his arms expectedly. "Ah ain't gonna bite."

"You did last time." Prowl murmured quietly in the smaller mech's audio as he slipped one of his arms behind Jazz's knee joints and one around his back. The laugh that escaped the saboteur's vocaliser was loud, and echoed around the room. A grin stretched across his face as Prowl hefted him up properly and began making his way towards the door, pausing to nod farewell at Ratchet and Prime.

Ratchet took the opportunity to yell after them before the medbay door closed shut. "Jazz, make sure to get fragged and fill up your transfluid reservoir!"

They were both awkwardly silent the entire walk to Jazz's quarters, and even when the code had been typed in and Prowl had carried the sparked mech into the room, they said nothing.

It was only when Jazz had been carefully set on the berth that he cleared his vocaliser awkwardly. "Um.. Will you stay for a while?"

"I do not think I should. I have plenty of reports to file and battle plans to review.." He trailed off, shrugging slightly. "I apologise."

"Oh, it's fine." Jazz said quickly, stifling his disappointment. "Um.. Not even for a little while?"

Pursing his lips as he thought, Prowl rubbed his chevron tiredly. "I suppose I could for a short time.. But Hightail is expecting me in ten minutes."

"Right." Jazz murmured, staring down into his lap. "You really like him, huh?"

"I hardly think my personal life is any of your concern."

"Sorry." Frowning behind his visor, Jazz glanced to the wall and stared at it for a long moment. "Um.. D'you wanna sit down?"

After a short pause, the tactician slowly sat on the berth next to him. "Why did you want me to stay?"

"Ah wanted some company."

"You could have called Blaster."

"Ah could have." Jazz agreed, fidgeting awkwardly. "But.. You make me feel calmer."

"Hm."

Sneaking a glance at Prowl, the saboteur frowned slightly. "What?"

"I have noticed that I also feel illogically calmer and more content in your presence. When you are not shouting at me, of course."

"O' course." Jazz scowled irritably. He rested his hands over his bump again almost automatically.

Watching the saboteur's movements intently, Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Are you still considering giving your sparkling up?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure it's a good idea?"

Shooting him a sharp look, Jazz said "Better than raising it in a war, ain't it? Plus, someone could adopt it that actually wants it, and could raise it well."

"You could raise it well."

"No, Ah couldn't."

"I believe you could. I have seen you with Blaster's cassettes."

Jazz leaned gently into the larger mech, humming softly. "Ah didn't raise them, mech. Ah just look after 'em sometimes. Ah couldn't raise a sparklin' by mahself."

"What about the sire?"

"Ah already told ya. He ain't showin' any particular interest in anythin' t' do with meh."

Almost instinctually, Prowl began tracing circles on the saboteur's arm, encouraging him to relax further into him. "That is unusual."

Snorting slightly, Jazz shook his helm. "Just a random question, but what would ya do if Ah told ya that you were the sire?"

Prowl tilted his head curiously. "Hm.. At first I would probably crash from surprise."

"And then?"

"And then I would do everything I could to help. I would want to help raise the sparkling." He calmly raised an optic ridge as the saboteur turned his face away, avoiding optic contact. "Jazz, have you got something to tell me?"

"No." Jazz said quickly, resting his hands over his swollen abdomen.

"Hm."

"Ah'm tired." He announced suddenly, laying down on his side and curling his legs up to his distended gestation chamber. Peeking up at Prowl through his visor, Jazz reached out tentatively and touched the tactician's arm. "Will ya stay with meh?"

"I had agreed to meet Hightail..."

With a small nod, Jazz dropped his arm and wrapped it around his legs. "Okay. That's cool."

White shoulders heaved in a sigh. "I apologise. I told you that I would not be able to stay for long."

"Ah know. It's fine. Ah'll see ya tomorrow, anyway."

"Yes." The Praxian murmured, staring intently at the curled up mech beside him. After a moment, he stood and rested a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Make sure to drink your energon."

A snort escaped the smaller mech's chassis, and he raised his helm to grin at Prowl. "Ah ain't a sparklin'."

"I am aware. I was just reminding you."

"Well, thanks. Ah'll see ya tomorrow, Prowler."

It wasn't long after Prowl had left that Jazz simply fell into recharge.


	9. Chapter 9

Jazz sang to himself as he waddled down the corridors, smiling absently and waving distractedly at anyone he passed. He was almost unaware of where he was wandering, but he couldn't bring himself to be surprised when he noticed that he had arrived at Prowl's quarters.

Pausing in his song, the saboteur tilted his helm and regarded the door. He didn't want to bother Prowl again; the tactician was always so immersed in his work, even in the sanctuary of his own quarters. It seemed like yesterday that Jazz would have barged in and thrown things at him just to distract him from the work he seemed to love so much. He stood there for a while, just staring at the door.

Before the saboteur could make up his mind on whether to knock or just walk away, the door slid open and Prowl was framed in the doorway. He raised a delicate optic ridge as he folded his arms across his chassis. "How long are you going to stand out here for?"

"Er.."

Rolling his optics, Prowl stepped aside and gestured into his room. The saboteur smiled slightly and waddled passed him. Closing the door, Prowl turned and gazed silently at the other mech as he marched over to the desk at the far wall and plopped himself down on Prowl's chair. "Comfortable?"

"Yep." Grinning, the visored mech threw his legs up on the desk and interlocked his fingers over his large belly. "So, how was work?"

"It was fine." With a small sigh, Prowl walked over to the desk and leaned lightly next to the saboteur's shapely legs. "How did you recharge last night?"

Jazz shrugged, grinning at the strangely personal question. "Fine. How was Hightail?" His smile faded as he waited for the answer.

"I confess to not paying as much attention as I should have been. Hightail was rather unimpressed with me."

Jazz couldn't help himself; he began to snicker. Prowl's attention hadn't wavered whenever he had been talking to Jazz. "Huh. Bet he didn't like that."

"As it turned out, he did not."

Another laugh escaped the saboteur's vocaliser, and he sat up and held his arms out to Prowl. "Carry meh t' the berth?"

"Wh- I hope you did come here simply to lie on my berth."

"It's comfy." The visored mech said, grinning as the taller bot scooped him up and carried him to the berth. Groaning softly as he was laid down, Jazz reached up and pulled Prowl down with him.

The doorwinged mech grunted slightly and used his arms to brace himself before he fell flat on the sparked mech below him. "Careful."

"Don't wanna be careful." Jazz whined, wrapping his legs around the taller mech's waist.

"Nevertheless-"

"Oh, shut up." With another grin, the saboteur pulled him down and kissed him deeply. Humming softly into the other mech's mouth, Jazz pulled back slightly and rested his forehead on Prowl's.

"Ratchet warned you against straining yourself-" he was interrupted by another kiss. This time, though, he returned it, and slipped his hands under Jazz to support the saboteur's back struts. "Jazz- you should listen to me-"

Ignoring him, Jazz grinned as he bit lightly on the tactician's lower lip component. "Wanna do somethin' physically strenuous?"

"I believe that's precisely what Ratchet warned against."

"Pfff. Ratch ain't here."

"Jazz, don't you think you're being slightly irresponsible?"

"Yep."

With a sigh, Prowl pulled back and lay next to the saboteur. "Jazz... It wouldn't be right."

"It feels right t' me." The saboteur argued, sitting up and frowning. He stroked the entire expanse of one graceful doorwing, enjoying the shiver his actions were rewarded with:

"I- I do not have any intention of entering a polygamous relationship."

Pausing in his fondling, Jazz tilted his head. "Ah'm not askin' ya t' be in one. For the last time; you're the only one Ah'm fraggin'."

"But the sire of the sparkling-"

"Can we not have this conversation?!" Jazz pinched his nasal ridge impatiently. "No matter what Ah tell ya, ya don't seem t' believe me!"

"Try me!"

"You're the sire!"

Prowl paused, blinking. "Okay, you were right. I don't believe you."

Suddenly exhausted beyond belief, Jazz dropped his arms to his sides. "Prowl..."

"Perhaps you should go."

Surprised, the saboteur raised his helm and stared at Prowl. "What?"

"I think you should leave."

Suddenly angry, Jazz swore and heaved himself off the berth. "Ah swear t' Primus, Prowl! What the frag is wrong wit' yo'?! I'm tellin' ya the truth, and ya just- okay, look. If Ah leave now, Ah ain't comin' back. If ya tell me t' go out that door, that's it."

A small pause.

"I think you should leave, Jazz. I'm sorry."

...

"I'm leaving."

"What?" Startled out of his doze, Jazz blinked up at Prowl as he stood over him. The rec. room was mostly empty, and Jazz had seen that as a chance to nap undisturbed on one of the couches.

"I said I'm leaving. Prime is transferring me back to Praxus. There are several promising looking tactical students currently enrolled in the Praxus Academy. It is our hope to be able to recruit them."

"But-"

"Hightail is coming with me," Prowl continued, ignoring Jazz's effort to speak. "I do not know when I will be back."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jazz whispered. His visor was over-bright as he stared up at the tactician.

There was a barely noticeable pause before the SIC shrugged helplessly. "I do not know."

Jazz was still and silent as the Praxian turned and walked away from him. He wanted to shout after him, but no words would come to him. He didn't know what to say. That was certainly a first.

He didn't know how long he sat there, just staring at the door through which Prowl had disappeared. It could have been seconds, or minutes, or hours. All he knew was that suddenly, a red hand was being waved in front of his face. "Huh?"

Ratchet's familiar face ducked down to optic level and he clicked sympathetically at him. "No more transfluid donations from the sire, huh?"

"Yeah. Ah guess." Jazz frowned, staring down at his distended abdomen. "Ratchet... He left."

"Yeah. I know, kid."

"He left me alone. With this stupid sparkling! What the Pit am Ah supposed to do?!"

The medic stayed silent, watching as coolant tears slid down the ordinarily cheerful mech's face. In the time the saboteur had been staring blankly at the door, the rec. room had become crowded. Everyone tactfully avoided looking at the emotional carrier, clearly under the impression that this was just another mood swing.

Taking a deep, rattling intake of air, Jazz glared. "Stupid fragger! He was the one who did this to me! And Ah _told_ him, Ratch! He didn't fragging believe me! And that stupid, _stupid_ slagger of a pleasurebot is goin' with him."

"I realise this may not help, but I told Prowl very clearly that he is not to interface with Hightail, or anyone else. Couldn't risk any more sparklings. I didn't say that to him, but maybe I should have."

"Yeah.." Jazz mumbled, tracing patterns around his stomach armour. "Ah've put this off for a long time, but Ah think it's time t' take off mah stomach armour."

Surprise flickered across the CMO's features. "You mean remove all of it?"

"Yeah. It's gettin' really tight, and the sparklin' can't be comfortable. It keeps kickin' at me."

"Very well."

It took almost an hour to get Jazz's abdominal armour off, and when he had finally removed all of it, Ratchet was both exhausted and furious.

"What have I said about those slagging Special Ops codes?! Stop rewriting your own coding! What if you had been severely injured and a medic needed to remove it to operate, but he couldn't because you were fragging experimenting with your armour code commands?!"

"Calm down." Jazz replied blithely, examining himself in the mirror. Without his armour, his smooth protoform was bare. It also gave his gestation chamber much more room to swell out, pressing at his protoform and increasing the size of his bump exponentially. "Primus, Ah'm enormous."

Clearly grumpy at being interrupted mid-rant, Ratchet scowled at him and tucked away the white armour plate he had literally wrestled away from the saboteur's swollen belly. "Obviously. It shouldn't be too much longer. Perhaps a month or two."

"What?!" the saboteur yelped, jerking back and clutching his abdomen. "Why didn't ya tell meh that before?!"

"Because we don't have the proper equipment to deal with these sort of estimations. I'm only making estimations based on your current size."

"Oh." He drummed his fingers steadily against his now exposed protoform, and was rewarded with a kick from his sparkling. Grunting slightly and scowling at the place that had been kicked from the inside, Jazz lifted his head and gazed at the medic again. "What am Ah meant t' do now that Prowl's gone?"

The CMO delicately avoided Jazz's gaze. "What do you mean? I was under the impression that you were going to give up the sparkling."

There was a pause, and Jazz blinked beneath his visor, clearly startled. "Ah don't- what? Oh. Yeah, Ah.. yeah, Ah know. Ah just.. Ah forgot."

"Hm."

"Anyway," Jazz changed the subject quickly, looking back down at his now unprotected belly. "Isn't this dangerous? Ah mean, now Ah'm vulnerable for attack."

"You won't be going to battle any time soon. I wouldn't worry."

A scowl formed behind his visor. "Ah know that, but.. What 'bout Decepticon spies?"

"Oh, hush. You're just feeling awkward without your armour."

"O' course Ah am! Special Ops here!"

"Well, calm your circuits. You'll be fine."

With a sigh, Jazz rested his hands across his bulbous gestation chamber. "Ah'm actually really tired. Ah'm gonna go t' berth."

"Okay." Ratchet surveyed his patient closely, before moving to one of the medical cabinets. "Here, take these."

Jazz paused as the medic handed him three energon cubes with ore additives. "Thanks."

"Come into me again tomorrow. I want to check up on you."

...

"Mech, this is just sad."

Jazz onlined slowly and grumpily, glaring at whoever it was that dared to interrupt his precious recharge. Blaster's bright face came into focus, and he hissed at him. "Ah was rechargin'!"

"In Prowl's office?"

Yawning, the saboteur peered sleepily at his surroundings. It appeared he had fallen asleep at the tactician's desk. "Hm. Not like _he_ was usin' it. Plus, his chair is so comfy..."

"Yeah, 'cause it's made fer doorwinged mechs. Will ya come on and get out of here? It's weird and creepy."

"No, it ain't." The visored mech argued as he climbed out of the chair. "What's weird and creepy is how big Ah'm gettin'!"

"Alright, calm down." Blaster soothed as he helped his friend out of the room. The carrier shook off the assistance with some mild irritation, but Blaster remained close just in case. "Ah was the same when Ah was carryin' Rewind and Eject."

"Rewind and Eject were twins. Ya were carryin' two li'l people inside ya, o' course ya were big! But Ah even asked Ratchet, 'cause Ah thought Ah might have been carryin' twins, but he said there was just one! Just one li'l sparklin', and yet Ah'm the size of a moon!"

"Ah think you're exaggerating."

"Ah think mah foot's about to go up your aft."

"O~kay!" Blaster quickly forced a smile on his face and led his friend into the rec. room, before pushing him gently towards a chair. "Why don't you just sit down right there? Ah'll get ya your energon."

As his friend hurried away, Jazz sat down heavily on the couch he had been shoved towards and splayed his hands across his gestation bulge.

"Wow, you must be getting near popping time."

"Hi, Smokey." The saboteur didn't even bothering onlining his optics behind his visor; he knew who was standing in front of him. "What's up?"

"Nothin', just relaxing before my shift. I am now acting as Head Tactician of Iacon. Just acting, of course, but my Primus, I had no idea how much work was involved. I have no fragging idea how Prowl survived it."

"Hm."

"But, whatever." Smokescreen shrugged and claimed a seat next to Jazz. Taking a swig of his high-grade, he frowned at the saboteur. "You don't look too great."

"Guess ya could say that." He sighed, rubbing the edges of his visor. "Ah haven't had anything to do with mah time. Ratchet won't clear me for work."

"I think I can understand that." The acting-Head-Tactician-of-Iacon frowned slightly and gestured to Jazz's impressive abdomen. "It looks the sparkling is just gonna pop out at any moment."

"Would ya stop sayin' that?" Frowning defensively, Jazz clutched at his distended gestational bulge. "It ain't gonna pop out! Ah asked Ratchet!"

"Alright, alright, just sayin'!"

The saboteur sighed and drummed his fingers off of his exposed abdominal protoform. "So.. Have ya heard from Prowl yet?"

"Me? No. But he reports into Optimus twice a day."

"Oh.."

"Ah'm back!" Blaster called out cheerfully, sliding a cube of fresh energon over to Jazz. "Hey, Smokey."

It didn't take long for Jazz to quickly tune out of the conversation, and when he did his thoughts turned to Prowl.

...

"There you are!"

Jazz paused, surprised at the sight of the Prime hurrying towards him. "Optimus-?"

"I was looking for you." The Matrix-bearer fell into step beside his subordinate. "In fact, I wished to ask you something."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. Smokescreen mentioned to me that you were currently unhappy with all your free time. He told me that it would be good for your emotional stability for you to be doing some light work, simply to keep your processor busy."

The heavily sparked mech seemed to perk up. "Ya mean Ah can go back t' work?"

"Ah.. No." Prime smiled apologetically, patting the smaller mech on the shoulder. "Unfortunately, Ratchet has not cleared you for your ordinary duties. I asked, but.. I believe he mentioned something about Special Operations being an extremely dangerous place for a carrying 'bot. I was thinking of something less hazardous."

Scowling and muttering to himself, Jazz slowed to a halt in the middle of the corridor. "No disrespect, Prime, but for frag's sake, just spit it out!"

Far too used to Jazz's unpredictable moods at this point, Optimus didn't appear in any way phased by his Third's attitude. "Well, I was hoping you could do some work for me."

"What sorta work?" The suspicious tone was obvious.

"Just returning comm. calls, reviewing small amounts of paperwork, assisting me with meetings, tasks like that. Would that be okay?"

"Ya want meh t' be yo' secretary."

Pausing slightly, the Prime smiled nervously. "For want of a better word, yes." He was half expecting Jazz to turn around and smack him.

It came as a mild surprise when the saboteur just sighed and nodded. "Fine. But only 'cause Ah have nothin' better t' do."

...

"Bored, bored, bored, bored.." Jazz sang his mantra to himself and his swollen abdomen as he tidied Prime's desk. Optimus had left him to it a while ago, feeling uncomfortable listening to the constant stream of curses that streamed from the smaller mech's mouth as he cleaned up the mess.

Finally, the saboteur sighed and stepped back. The desk was as tidy as it was going to get; the datapads had been filed in order of importance, outdated reports had been cleared away, and empty energon cubes that had previously cluttered the desk had been thrown out. Hearing the door slide open and Optimus' unmistakeable heavy footsteps enter the room, Jazz spoke without turning around. "Your desk was worse than mine, mech."

An awkward chuckle escaped the Autobot leader as he stepped around the desk to get a better look. "Thank you for cleaning, Jazz."

"S'okay." With a soft sigh, the saboteur leaned against the now-clean desk and rested a servo across his gestation chamber.

"I had better be going to the Command Deck now." Optimus sighed, rubbing at the battle mask which now protected the lower half of his face. "Could you please assist me?"

"Yep." Without a hesitation, Jazz grabbed up several datapads and followed Optimus out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys. First of all, Fanfiction still won't let me reply to reviews, and it's driving me insane, because I really want to reply to you guys. If you really need to get a reply from me, PM and I can reply that way. Even though I can't reply to reviews, I promise I've been reading them all and taking everything on board.**

** I realise that the last chapter definitely wasn't my best work. Everything has been really stressful at home with my granny being sick, and i think my head has just been elsewhere. **

**I really hope this chapter is better, but I can't really tell. I'm just hoping it is. Enjoy it, I guess? And I'd like to thank Aradow for being so understanding and supportive.**

Jazz insisted on helping and assisting Optimus as his assistant for several weeks, until he was waddling stiffly instead of walking. His discomfort had been noted by Optimus, who insisted on moving around as little as possible. Jazz was grateful, of course, although slightly disgruntled by what he considered to be a weakness.

Right now, he was hurrying as fast as he could manage behind Optimus, who kept shooting him apologetic looks and slowing his pace to allow the shorter mech to catch up with him. Ignoring the looks, Jazz clutched the datapads he was carrying closer to his chassis.

It was with no small amount of relief that Jazz followed his leader into the Communications Room and made a beeline straight for the nearest chair. A relieved gust of air was expelled from his vents as he dropped into, and a small smile tilted up the edges of his lip. "Ah. Better."

An amused huff came from Optimus' vocaliser, and he focused his attention on Blaster, who was patiently awaiting orders by the largest terminal. "Contact Prowl, please."

Tensing almost imperceptibly, Jazz sat up straighter in his chair. There was a calm silence as Prowl's image flickered up onto the largest view screen in a video call. The SIC nodded respectfully. "Sir."

"Prowl." Optimus greeted, nodding in return. "I trust you are well?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Your recruitment mission is taking longer than expected."

"Yes, sir. It seems that the professors are most reluctant to allow their students to become associated with any faction in the war. It is taking some time to convince the tactical students to consider the Autobot cause, as the professors have insisted upon their neutrality being unquestioned."

"I see... Well, we have received more reports on students with potential in the tactical compartment. Jazz?"

Quickly shoving himself to his feet, Jazz waddled over to the Prime and shuffled through the datapads he was holding. "Um.. Hang on a sec... Oh, here it is!"

The Matrix-bearer took the proffered datapad with a grateful nod, and turned back to Prowl. Ignoring the fact that his SIC's optics were fixed firmly on the saboteur beside him, Optimus began to speak. "The following are the students who show potential in the tactical department: Runaway, Nightfall, Lighthouse.."

Jazz tuned out pretty quickly, staring around the room and fiddling with the datapads in his hands. It took effort to not look at Prowl.

"Noted. Thank you."

"Do you know when your mission will be at an end?"

"My battle computer cannot offer a suitable estimation," Prowl frowned, looking at a datapad in his hands. "But there have been a few 'bots that have expressed an interest in joining the Autobots as soldiers."

"Excellent." Appearing pleased with this new development, Optimus nodded and steepled his fingers. "Could you please tell Jazz the names of these potential new Autobot recruits so he can make a note of them?"

"...Certainly." Prowl shot his superior a curious look, but relayed the names to the saboteur, who nodded to himself as he marked them down on one of his datapads. As Prowl was calling out the names, Optimus excused both himself and Blaster and left the room, muttering some ridiculous excuse about inspecting the walls in the hallway.

After the last name had been called, Jazz nodded again and tucked his datapad away. "Right."

"Why are you taking notes for Optimus? I was under the impression that you were to be taken off-duty until the birth of your sparkling."

"Ah was bored. Prime offered me some work t' do. Secretarial work, but better than nothin'."

"I see."

"So..." Jazz shifted, hand splaying across his belly awkwardly. "Um... How's Hightail?" He inwardly cursed himself immediately; of all the things to ask about, why would he bring up that fragger?!

"He is.. slightly clingy."

"Oh?" The TIC couldn't hide the interest in his voice.

"Indeed." Doorwings twitching irritably, Prowl buried his face in one of his hands. "I do not know what to do. He is becoming increasingly hard to work with."

"Stab him."

"_Jazz_!"

"Just a suggestion." The saboteur shrugged lightly, a serene smile stretching over his faceplates.

"Your suggestions are unappreciated." Prowl muttered, glaring at the Third in Command.

"Well, what are ya doin' with him now?"

"I have been sending him on ridiculous made-up missions to try to distract him."

A laugh burst out of Jazz's vocaliser. "Huh. Nice."

A smile tilted the edges of the tactician's lips, but it slid off very quickly. "I should get back to my duties, and you should get back to yours."

Jazz almost opened his mouth to ask Prowl not to hang up so soon, but closed it quickly. Instead, he nodded and terminated the call before the tactician could get another word out. He let out a deep breath and braced himself against the terminal with both arms.

After a moment, he pushed himself away and waddled out of the room.

...

"Six recruits already?"

"Affirmative, sir."

As the Prime and his SIC were talking, Jazz found the time to have a glaring contest with Hightail. Well, 'contest' would suggest that it was two-sided. So far, it was just Jazz glaring blatantly at the junior tactician and hoping his head would explode.

"Excellent.. Jazz-"

"Here." The saboteur muttered, handing over the datapad he had been holding.

"Ah. Thank you." Optimus glanced over the datapad quickly, and nodded. "Yes... Wait, does that include-"

"It does." Jazz confirmed, drumming his fingers against his swollen abdomen.

"I see. So six out of the twenty-eight mechs you mentioned to Jazz in your last report have signed up for the Autobots, including two of the two tactical students?"

"Yes, sir."

Jazz shifted onto his other leg, frowning slightly and supporting his bump with two hands.

Noticing the change despite his conversation with the Prime, Prowl's optics zeroed in on the saboteur. "Are you well?"

Following his second's gaze, Optimus frowned at the sparked mech. "Jazz?"

The saboteur blinked and looked up, startled to see everyone staring at him. "Hm? Ah'm fine."

"Is everything okay?" As usual, Optimus appeared concerned.

"Um.. Yeah. Sparklin' is just... Ah dunno what it's doin'. It's movin' around a lot." The TIC winced as the sparkling kicked at him again.

"May I?"

Uncertain of what the Prime was asking permission for, Jazz just nodded. When the big mech leaned in and pressed one hand and his audio against Jazz's large abdomen, the saboteur just blinked again. "Um.. Prime? What're ya doin'?"

Optimus didn't reply.

Glancing at the monitor, Jazz noticed Prowl and Hightail had much the same bemused facial expressions as he currently did. The SIC leaned forward, looking completely bewildered at their leader's behaviour. "Optimus, this is most unbecoming. What are you doing?"

"Oh!" The Prime's optic ridges shot up, and he glanced towards the view screen. "Say something again."

"What? I don't understand, sir."

"Sir," Hightail spoke up uncertainly, glancing to Prowl before back at the Prime. "Does this have anything to do with our reports?"

Barely hiding his scowl as the junior tactician spoke, Jazz glanced down as the Prime laughed. "Oh, he doesn't like _that_." Optimus murmured, sounding thoroughly amused.

"What-?"

"It appears your sparkling is rather fond of Prowl's voice."

The tactician blinked, looking startled.

"He doesn't appear so fond of Hightail's."

The other tactician scowled, looking disgruntled.

"Well... That's nice. How do ya get it t'-" Jazz broke off, and frowned at his superior. "Ya called it a 'he'."

"Yes."

"It.. Is it a mech?"

"Well, it sounds like a mech."

"Sir, that is completely illogical. A sparkling of that age would not have its speech processes, and you would not be able to hear it from within the protective metal of Jazz's gestation chamber-"

"It still sounds like a mech."

Prowl looked as though he were about to glitch.

"Um.. So Ah'm havin' a mechling?"

"It certainly sounds like it."

"Sir, there is no plausible way you could tell the frame-type simply by listening to-"

"A mech.." Jazz tuned out, gazing down at his bump. It looked like a small continent. "Huh. Is he big? 'Cause the bump is sorta enormous."

"No, no, he is normal sized."

"Optimus, you are not a scanner. You could not _possibly_ know the size-"

Jazz cut off Prowl's pragmatism. "Then why'm Ah gettin' so massive?"

"Well, though the sparkling itself is normal in size, his extra appendages are taking up a lot of space."

"Extra appendages..?"

"Yes. It sounds as though he has doorwings." Pressing his helm against Jazz's belly again, the massive mech nodded in confirmation. "Yes, I definitely hear doorwings."

This time, there was silence from Prowl. The tactician simply stared at the swollen abdomen on-screen with massive optics.

Curiously, Hightail leaned in closer on the view-screen, blocking out most of Prowl's face. "Doorwings?"

"Indeed."

"Smokescreen was the sixth most plausible option to be the sire! That means I've won 150 credits! _Yes_!"

A dark frown crossed what little of Prowl's face could be seen on the view screen. "Hightail, sit down at once."

"I hope that does not mean you were gambling, Hightail." Optimus added amicably, still listening closely to Jazz's gestation chamber as the sparkling kicked and shifted around.

"I- of course not, sir."

"You are dismissed." The growled order seemed slightly out of character for Prowl, but the junior tactician just nodded and fled the room.

"Hmm. The sparkling sounds healthy and happy."

"Sir..."

"I'm not listening, Prowl."

A light laugh fell from between Jazz's lips, and he found himself grinning. He was happier than he had felt for ages.

Optimus smiled too, before leaning back and nodding approvingly. "Well. I just need to run and get a file. I'll be right back."

"Ah can get it-" The saboteur began, about to turn to the door.

"Nonsense! You stay here!" The Prime was already halfway out the door. He smiled cheerfully behind his battlemask as the door whooshed close behind him.

Slowly, Jazz turned to look at the view screen in front of him, and almost winced to see Prowl was already staring intently at him. "Um.."

"Doorwings?"

"Yeah. Guess so." The TIC shuffled awkwardly, glueing his gaze to the floor. "Can't say Ah'm surprised. It is _yours_, after all."

"I know."

The admission caught Jazz by surprise, and he glanced up to stare. "_Excuse_ meh?"

"Ratchet caught up to me before the ship left for Praxus and tried to 'beat some sense' into me. He explained my lack of Spark Energy Modulator, and how it leads to sparking. But.. I suppose I had harboured some suspicions before that."

"So ya knew?! Ya fraggin' _knew_, and ya said nothin'?! Ya knew, and _ya fraggin' left?_!"

The tactician sighed, and covered his face in his hands. "I am sorry."

"Sorry?! _Sorry_?!"

"I had no intention of sparking you, although I should have realised what the lack of Spark Energy Modulator meant. I should also have listened to you when you told me I was the sire. I simply.. My logic centre denied it. Every time I so much as considered it my processor crashed. The timing is... not very good."

"Yeah. Ah think that's a pretty good observation. Ya gonna explain why ya decided runnin' back t' Praxus with stupid fraggin' _Hightail_ was a good idea?"

"I.. I do not know. I was being most illogical, and my battle computer was denying the validity of me being the sire. When Optimus mentioned a job in Praxus, I jumped at it. I apologise, Jazz."

Jazz felt his energy drain as he stared up at the Praxian's face. "You're a total aft." He said coldly, causing Prowl to flinch.

"I know."

"So all the fragging stress you've caused me is down to that stupid slagging logic centre of yours?"

"I've caused you stress?"

"_Of course you've fragging caused me stress!_ I haven't know what to do with mahself since Ah first fragging found out Ah was sparked! And then when Ah actually told ya, _ya ran away_!"

The Praxian's doorwings had drooped so low they were almost flat against his back. "I am _so_ sorry, Jazz. I was not thinkin straight, I- I will do anything to show you I am sorry. Because I am."

Jazz had to sit down, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. His anger had drained from him. Now he just felt like bursting into tears.

"When are you due?"

"Ratchet don't know." As he spoke, he ran his hands over his swollen gestation chamber. "He says soon. But... He doesn't actually have any of the tools needed for stuff like that. Um.. He's takin' an educated guess based on mah size, which is a li'l offensive."

"What was his educated guess?"

"'Bout a month."

"I hope to be back in Iacon by then. Are you... looking forward to the sparkling?"

"Well, not really. Ah ain't keepin' it anyway, so-"

"Of course we are."

"What?"

"Of course we are keeping it. Why wouldn't we?"

"Because- what? Ah don't.. Ya didn't want it."

"When did I say I did not want it?"

"Ah asked. Ages ago. Ah asked if ya would ever consider havin' a sparklin'. Ya said ya never wanted one."

"I said I never considered it. I never said I did not want one. It is illogical to begin raising a sparkling in this war, but.. I would not back away from this opportunity."

The saboteur didn't look at the screen. "Hm. Ah gotta go and catch up with Optimus."

"Jazz..."

"See ya." The sparked mech terminated the connection, and simply stared at the blank screen for a long moment.

Finally, he sighed and pushed himself away from the console, towards the door. He was tired and confused and happy and excited and conflicted and angry, but there was work to do. He would think about this later.


	11. Chapter 11

"-and here's the report on energon usage by the troops in Altihex, and here's the request from Ovacalix for-"

"That will do, Jazz." Optimus spoke over his Third in Command, "You look exhausted. Perhaps you should rest a while."

"Ah'm fine." The saboteur yawned unconvincingly. "Ah just.."

"Leave the datapads with me, and I will read through them myself. You go and catch some recharge."

It didn't take too much convincing; Jazz nodded and tottered away, barely managing to stay on his feet.

Just before he left the doorway, Optimus called to him, "Jazz?"

"Mm?"

"Have you packed for Praxus?"

"Yep. Ah'll be ready t' go in the mornin'."

"Good. Check in with Ratchet; he wishes to accompany you on your trip."

Another nod, and Jazz bowed out of the room, making his way straight to the medbay.

It was late, so there was no one but Ratchet in the medbay. The CMO was in the back, packing away his best wrenches into a travel box. He glanced up at the sound of the door sliding open, and nodded his greetings at the saboteur. "You know the drill."

"Yeah." With a sigh, Jazz heaved himself up on one of the medical berths. "So.. Ya comin' with meh tomorrow?"

"Yes. I don't trust you to take proper care of yourself."

"Oh, thanks." Jazz said sarcastically, rolling his optics beneath his visor. As the medic pulled out his scanner and looked him over, Jazz began drumming his fingers against his legs. "Ah'm tired."

"This won't take long. Here, fuel up." Ratchet handed the sparked mech a cube of energon. "While we're in Praxus, try and get Prowl to frag you. You really do need a transfluid donation."

Deciding that silence was the best answer, Jazz said nothing.

They both remained quiet until the examination was over and done with.

"Alright. You can go."

"Thanks." Jazz slid off the med berth and hesitated. "Um... So.."

"Everything is fine." The CMO answered the unasked question. He offered the carrying mech a small smile. "You're carrying a perfectly healthy sparkling."

"And, um.. is it a mech..?"

Ratchet paused, eyeing him carefully. "Are you sure you don't want to wait until you're with Prowl to know this?"

"Well, no. OP already mentioned... that it might be a mech.. I just wanted to confirm medically, y'know?"

"Hmph." Ratchet snorted, rolling his optics. "Well, I can confirm that it's a mech. Congratulations."

...

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." Jazz said testily, glaring out the window of the transport shuttle. His fingers tapped impatiently against his protruding abdomen. "When's this stupid thing landin'?"

"We're nearly there. Prowl said he was going to meet us in the landing hangar."

Jazz didn't answer, resuming his glare out the window. "Ah hate shuttles. Make me feel claustrophobic."

"Keep yourself calm. The sparkling can feel everything you do."

"Awkward." The saboteur muttered to himself. He jumped as the shuttle made a strange noise, and shot a panicked look at the medic seated across from him.

"We're coming in to land, that's all. Don't panic."

Forcing himself to relax, Jazz nodded. "Right. We'll be on solid ground in a few minutes, right?"

"Right."

Deep, calming ventilations. He had to stay calm. They were landing. They were safe.

The shuttle touched the ground, and Jazz yelped loudly at the collision. He ignored the roll of Ratchet's optics in favour of acting casual and wiping imaginary dust off himself. "Ahem. Can we get off now?"

"I think we'd better."

Taking off his safety belt, Jazz stood and followed the old medic to the now-open door of the shuttle. Peering over a white shoulder, he caught sight of Prowl talking to one of the shuttle pilots.

"Nervous?"

Jazz jerked away from the older mech and gave him a withering look. "Nervous about what?"

"Prowl."

Amazing how one simple name could cause such strange feelings to flutter in his spark. Jazz played casual again. "What 'bout him?"

"First time you've seen him in person since he found out you're carrying his sparklet. That must be a bit strange."

The saboteur shifted his weight to his other leg, wincing at his pained ankles. "Whatever. Ah just wanna sit down somewhere."

"Hmm. I'm sure Prowl has got suitable accommodation for us."

"Ah dunno." Jazz eyed up the compound before him suspiciously. "It looks.. it looks pretty small..."

Ratchet shrugged and began trudging down the steps off the shuttle. Halfway down he paused and glanced back at Jazz, who hadn't moved. "Are you coming?"

There was a long pause, where Jazz scratched the back of his helm sheepishly. "Ah don't know if Ah'm gonna be able t' make it down the stairs."

The medic sighed, and glanced around. His optics fell on a large bot near the bottom of the steps, obviously a guard. "Hey, you! Come here!"

"Oh Primus, Ratch! No, no, no, no, Ah'll be fine!" Jazz said hurriedly, moving to start his way down the steps by himself.

"Do not move!" Ratchet snapped, pointing sternly at the carrying mech as the guard hurried up the stairs towards them. Turning towards the big mech, he said "What's your name?"

"Deadlight." The big mech said, nodding in greeting. His voice was deep, and his armour was shiny. His faceplate was pretty good looking, too. Jazz shifted slightly, eyeing Deadlight up. So maybe being carried down the steps by this guy wasn't the _worst_ thing that could happen.

"Will you carry him down, please? He's in no state to be walking down these steps by himself."

Seeming surprised for a moment, he recovered quickly and nodded. "Sure." Deadlight stepped forward and held his arms out awkwardly.

It was a struggle not to roll his optics, but Jazz allowed himself to be scooped into a bridal hold. He shifted a little in Deadlight's arms to get comfortable, before relaxing. "Um.. Hi there."

"Hello." Deadlight's lips twitched up as he started down the stairs. "Congratulations on your sparkling."

"Oh, thank you." Jazz smiled contentedly to himself. "It was an accident."

"...oh."

"Did I just make this awkward?"

"Slightly." A small laugh escaped Deadlight's vocaliser, and he shifted Jazz in his arms as he took another step.

"You're massive." The saboteur commented casually, poking the big mech's strong arms.

Deadlight laughed. "I'm big in other places too." He winked playfully at the smaller mech in his arms as he neared the bottom of the steps. "Maybe you'd like to find that out for yourself sometime."

Ratchet glared over his shoulder at the both of them. "He is sparked. I hardly think that is appropriate to say to him, especially considering how close the sire is. He might tear you apart."

Guilty all of a sudden, Deadlight shrugged sheepishly. "Oh, sorry. So.. Um.. Who's the sire?" He asked awkwardly as he stepped down off the stairs and went to stand by Ratchet.

"He is." Jazz calmly pointed to Prowl, who had finished talking to the shuttle pilot and was now approaching them.

The energon visibly drained from Deadlight's faceplates. "Primus. I just hit on Prowl's bondmate."

Before Jazz could protest that he wasn't bonded to Prowl, the SIC stopped right in front of them and turned his narrowed optics on Deadlight. "I believe you can put him down now."

"Oh, right. Yeah." The big mech almost threw Jazz on the ground in his hurry to put him down.

"Be careful!" Both Ratchet and Prowl snapped simultaneously, both reaching at the same time to catch Jazz before he fell.

"Ah'm fine." The smaller mech waved a hand airily as he steadied himself.

"You are dismissed." Prowl directed at Deadlight. Once the large mech was out of sight, he cleared his vocaliser and turned back to the two new arrivals. "Ah... Was your journey satisfactory?"

"Don't try to make small talk." Ratchet advised, pushing passed him and making his way to the first corridor he saw. "I presume this is the way to the medical bay?"

"Correct." Prowl murmured, following the medic. Jazz trailed behind them both. "The other medics are expecting your arrival."

"Excellent. Jazz will be staying with you, right?"

A barely noticeable pause later, Prowl nodded. "He will be, yes."

"Good, good. He needs transfluid for the sparkling, so give him as much as you can without tiring him out. Mind his bump; don't crush the sparkling."

"Ratchet!" Jazz complained, scowling at the medic.

"Hush, you." Ratchet scolded. "You got yourself into this situation. I'm just trying to help."

"I am sure I will be able to work it out, Ratchet." Prowl looked absolutely mortified. "I will show you to the medical bay and your quarters, and then I shall show Jazz to my quarters, and then I will return to work."

"No need to show me where the medbay is; I know where I'm going." The medic waved a hard dismissively. He pointed down the corridor with the same hand. "I'll be on my way then. You just show Jazz where he's staying, and make sure he's comfortable. Oh, and make sure he comes to me to be checked on later. If he feels anything wrong, carry him to me at once. Don't let him walk. I'll see you two later."

Once Ratchet had wandered down the corridor and turned the corner, Prowl turned back to Jazz and cleared his vocaliser. "Ahem. So... How have you been doing?"

The saboteur's attention had wandered as Ratchet had been talking with Prowl, but he snapped back to attention immediately. "Hm? Oh. Ah'm fine. Bit uncomfortable, but.. Yeah."

Prowl nodded, and they both fell into an awkward silence. After a long moment, he gestured down the corridor. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah. Yeah, 'kay." Jazz nodded quickly and followed the taller mech down the hall.

The unfamiliar corridors all looked the same, but Jazz made an effort to commit the route to Prowl's quarters to memory anyway.

They both slowed as they reached Prowl's door; the tactician keyed in his code quickly, and allowed Jazz to step in first before following him in. The saboteur looked around the room; it was completely plain. Almost identical to his room back in Iacon.

"The berth is over here." Prowl led the smaller mech to the back of the room and gestured at the berth. "Ah... Will it be okay for you?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Jazz sat on the edge and glanced up at the tactician almost shyly. "But, um.. Ah'm gettin' kinda big... It could be a squeeze for the both o' us."

"I will be recharging on the couch."

The blue visor brightened in surprise. "Wha'? Ah didn't come all the way t' Praxus just t' sleep alone, mech."

"Why did you come to Praxus?" Prowl tilted his helm curiously. "Prime never quite made that clear."

Jazz lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug. "Ah wanted t' see ya. Ah thought we should talk. Ah mean, in person instead o' through a screen."

"I see."

"Y'know, 'cause we're havin' a sparklin' together. And that's kinda a big deal."

"It is, yes."

They both fell silent again.

After a moment, Prowl settled beside Jazz on the berth. His optics settled on the smaller mech's hugely distended belly. "May I..?"

"Sure."

Slowly, Prowl placed his hand over the bump. His thumb rubbed little circles over the stretched protoform, and Jazz sighed at the feeling. "You are getting big."

"Yeah, everyone says that." The saboteur sighed again, allowing his frame to relax.

"You must be getting extremely uncomfortable."

"Kinda."

"Hm." Obviously about to speak again, Prowl opened his mouth, only to freeze as he felt a nudge by his hand. He glanced down to Jazz's belly and raised an optic ridge. "Was that-?"

"That was the little guy sayin' hi." Jazz smiled slightly as the tactician leaned down and rested his face beside his bump. "He missed you."

A flash of guilt and sorrow crossed over the Praxian's face. "I cannot believe I missed so much of his gestation while I was being such an aft."

Jazz tentatively ran his hand over Prowl's helm, content when he wasn't pushed away. "Just make sure ya don't miss anymore o' his life."

"Yes..." Prowl murmured. Then, surprising Jazz, he pressed a kiss to the bump, before sitting back upright. "I will have to return to work.."

"Not yet though." The saboteur clasped at Prowl's hands. "Stay with meh a li'l longer?"

After a brief pause, the Praxian nodded and relaxed back again. "Yes. I suppose the students won't be attending their lecture until later, anyway. I might as well- umf!" His words were cut off as his mouth was enveloped in a kiss.

Shifting on the berth, Jazz managed to straddle the taller mech's thighs without breaking the kiss. "Missed ya.. while ya.. were.. bein' an aft.." He murmured in between kisses. It was rather difficult to manoeuvre the kiss around his huge abdomen, but they managed.

"I am sorry." Prowl murmured, trailing little kisses along Jazz's jawline and neck. "Allow me to make it up to you. Please?"

"Yes.." The saboteur whimpered, stretching his neck back to allow better access. He gasped as little nips were delivered to the sensitive areas along his cabling. "Make it up t' meh..."

A little growl escaped Prowl's engine, and he gently picked Jazz up and laid him out on his back. Mindful of the gestation bump, he kissed all down Jazz's body, kissed his interface panel, and then kissed all the way back up to his mouth.

"Tease." Jazz giggled, slipping his glossa into the kiss.

"Hypocrite." The tactician shot back, groaning quietly as Jazz began grinding his hips against Prowl's interface panel. "Primus..."

"Please... C'mon, Prowl.." Jazz whimpered, and his interface panel snapped back, baring his valve. Pearly drops of lubricant were leaking out already, despite the fact they had hardly done anything yet.

Slipping two fingers into the bared valve, Prowl scissored gently, enjoying the gasp of pleasure his ministrations earned. "Is this okay?"

"Mmm... More... Please.." Jazz pleaded with a moan, tilting his hips up to try and get more friction.

Allowing himself a small smile, Prowl added another finger, and began thrusting. He curled his fingers, stroking a sensitive node at the roof of the valve.

"Yes! There!" Jazz bucked into the touch, hands flying up to clutch at Prowl's shoulders. "Ah want yo' spike, please!"

Almost as if obeying Jazz's request, Prowl's interface panel slid open and his spike pressurised of its own accord. Catching sight of the spike, Jazz wriggled his hips eagerly and spread his legs wider. The taller mech felt another flash of arousal at the sight: and he felt his spike harden further. Pressing forward, the top of his spike nudged into the rim of Jazz's valve.

"More." The saboteur demanded, wrapping his legs around Prowl's waist and arching his back, belly pushing up into the air.

Prowl pressed forwards, his spike slowly stretching the mesh of Jazz's valve. The smaller mech groaned, relishing the pleasurable burn as he was stretched. The tactician pressed a gentle kiss to Jazz's protruding abdomen as he gave the first shallow thrust.

"Primus." Jazz gasped, nodding emphatically. "Yeah.. Faster."

The Praxian's doorwings flared widely as he thrust again, moaning at the tightness of the smaller mech. "You... feel amazing.."

A grin stretched across Jazz's face at the compliment. "Thanks. If you're close, just let go and overload in meh."

"No." Prowl grunted, frowning. "You first."

About to argue, Jazz was cut off by a particularly hard thrust to a sensitive bundle of nodes near the back of his valve. "Primus! Do that again!"

The tactician did as he was told, relishing in the sounds he was eliciting from the saboteur. He leaned down, still mindful of the largely distended belly, and licked at a single audio horn. Jazz moaned wantonly, bucking his hips and tossing his head in an effort to get closer to all the sensations at once. All of his sensors felt horribly over-sensitised, and he could feel his overload approaching fast, like a train with no brakes. Prowl found himself fast approaching overload, too; it was the mere sight of Jazz in pleasure, he realised. He got off on it.

"Oh, Primus, yes! Yes! Ah'm.. Ah'm.." Jazz felt his eloquence leaving him as his charge built up and up, spiralling higher and higher, until with one last thrust from Prowl, it crashed down over him. He shrieked, his valve walls clenching in overload as his vision whited out.

Prowl gave another few thrusts before groaning as his own overload hit, and he gasped as his transfluid flooded Jazz's valve. Slumping down over Jazz, he sighed tiredly. "Okay?"

"Yeah." The smaller mech managed to say, vents working hard to try and cool down his overheated systems. "That was... good." Good seemed like such a weak term. It was over almost embarrassingly fast for the both of them; Jazz could blame his carrying protocols for hurrying up his overload simply to get the transfluid, but Prowl had no excuse. It was clear he hadn't been with anyone for a while. Probably since Jazz.

Nodding, Prowl pulled out, apologising when Jazz gasped. Small rivulets of luminescent transfluid and lubricant dribbled out, and Prowl quickly got an old cleaning cloth and wiped away the mess. He did the same to himself, before tucking his spike back into his housing.

The whole time, Jazz simply lay strutlessly, smiling contentedly at the ceiling. After a moment, he held a hand out to Prowl. "Come lie with meh?"

A brief hesitation, but Prowl nodded and eased himself onto the berth next to the saboteur. Still smiling, Jazz cuddled closer to the taller mech, laying his helm on Prowl's shoulder. Absentmindedly running his long fingers along Jazz's backstruts, Prowl said, "I hope you won't mind staying here while I finish up my business. Praxus is a nice city, and I shouldn't be much longer."

"It's fine." Jazz murmured, "Ah don't think Ah'll mind it here at all. Deadlight was the first person to flirt with meh in ages." A laugh bubbled out of his vocaliser. "Ah think it'll be fine."

The tactician had pursed his lips, and was now frowning. "He was flirting with you?"

"Yup. Quite badly, too."

"I will have a word with him."

"Nah, it's fine. Good for mah self-esteem."

"What is wrong with your self-esteem?"

"Nothin's wrong with it, Ah just don't feel great about mahself right now." Shrugging, Jazz stretched out his legs. "Ah mean, look at meh. Ah'm absolutely enormous, mah frame is completely outta shape 'cause o' the sparklin'."

Prowl managed to look guilty. "I am sorry. This is my fault." He ignored Jazz's attempt to argue that point and spoke over him. "But I can assure you, you are still beautiful."

He had expected a snort, or a cutting remark, but he got neither. Instead, he watched in surprise as Jazz leaned up and kissed his cheekplate. For some reason, that one little chaste kiss seemed ten times more intimate than their quick interface. "Thank you." The saboteur whispered, avoiding his gaze.

"You are quite welcome." Prowl murmured, leaning down and pulling the smaller mech into a proper kiss. He could feel Jazz melt against his chassis, and wrapped an arm around his waist. They were both careful not to crush the bump; it was pressing into Prowl's abdomen.

Just as Jazz had slipped his glossa into the taller mech's mouth, Prowl jerked back and stared down at him in surprise. The saboteur frowned. "What?"

"Did- I just felt the sparkling kick." He was staring down at Jazz's distended gestation chamber in wonder. Wordlessly, he slid back so the bump was pressing against his abdomen again. "Will you kick again, sweetspark?" Prowl cooed softly, stroking the sensitive protoform around the bulge.

Remaining silent, Jazz stared in surprise as the cold, tough tactician began cooing at his gestation bump. He couldn't help the smile stretching across his face. A kick from the sparkling turned the smile into a grimace, but the excited noise from Prowl brought another smile to his face. "He moves around a lot."

"Does he?" The Praxian was beaming as he stroked all around the gestation bump. "That is good; a sign of a healthy, active sparkling. Have.. have you considered any names for him?"

"No.." Jazz admitted, shifting on his back. "Ah was plannin' on givin' it up. Ah figured namin' it would make it harder t' give away."

"You can name it now."

There was a brief silence as Jazz considered. "Namin' things is hard."

"It is not a thing, it's our sparkling."

"Hm." The saboteur just shrugged. "We don't really need t' name it though, do we?"

"Wh-? Of course we do!"

"What 'bout Nameless? That's a good name."

"No it is not. That is barely a name."

"What 'bout Nobody?"

"Alright, you will not be naming the child."

With a laugh, Jazz stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Whatever. We should go see Ratchet now."

"If you wish." The taller mech stood up and pulled Jazz to his feet. He fussed for a moment, making sure the carrying mech felt no discomfort.

"Ah'm fine!" Jazz insisted, smacking the Praxian's hands away. "Primus. Can we just go?"

"Yes, of course." Prowl nodded and moved to the door, followed by the shorter mech.

"Oh, Prowl?"

"Yes-?" The tactician turned around, just in time for a fist to collide with his face. "_Frag_!"

Jazz took a step back and shook his hand, wincing. "That was for bein' an aft."

Drawing a pained and shaky breath, Prowl nodded as he held his nasal ridge with his hand. Energon dripped through his fingers as he nodded. "Yes, I deserved that."

"Yeah, y'did." Flexing his hand, Jazz moved towards the door and stepped out into the hall, glancing back at Prowl. "You comin'?"

"Certainly." Prowl murmured, still holding his hand to his face as he followed the smaller mech down the corridor.

It took no more than two minutes for Jazz to realise that he had no idea where he was going, and he stepped back to allow Prowl to take the lead.

They arrived at the medbay, and the tactician moved to the side to allow Jazz to enter first. "Ratchet?" He called uncertainly, looking around the unfamiliar medics for the white and red mech.

"What?" Ratchet's grumpy voice called out as he emerged from one of the back rooms. He paused and raised an optic ridge when he caught sight of the state of Prowl's face. "Had a little domestic argument already, have you? Show me your face. Jazz, you sit down."

"Yes, sir." The saboteur said mockingly, plopping himself down on one of the medical berths as Ratchet looked over the tactician.

"Primus, that's a clean break of your nasal ridge. How did that happen?"

Prowl didn't answer.

"A clean break?" Jazz asked curiously, leaning forward. "So it was a good punch?"

"Ah." Ratchet sighed in realisation. "May I ask what you were arguing about? You couldn't have broken his nasal ridge over just anything."

"We weren't arguin'."

Ratchet paused in confusion, before clearly deciding he was better off not knowing. Turning, he called, "Tourniquet? Go get the dissolvable stitches and take care of Prowl, would you?" They watched as a green and pink Praxian femme nodded and disappeared into the back room.

"Thank you." Prowl murmured, watching Ratchet follow the femme into the back room. When the medic was out of sight, he turned around and hesitated in front of Jazz. The saboteur shrugged and shuffled to the side to give Prowl room to sit down. The Praxian nodded in thanks and sat next to him.

"You did deserve that punch, ya know." Jazz said suddenly, reaching up and wiping away some of the energon around Prowl's nasal ridge.

Wincing as the smaller mech accidentally (or on purpose - there was no telling with Jazz) brushed off his broken nasal ridge, Prowl sighed and nodded. "I am aware. In fact, I deserve worse."

"Well, Ah ain't a sadist. A broken nasal ridge is as far as Ah'm gonna go, unless ya do somethin' stupid again." Jazz muttered as he wiped at the congealed energon. "Huh. Gonna need t' get a moist cloth t' get the rest o' the energon off."

The tactician nodded, just noticing Tourniquet return from the back room. She set down the box of dissolvable stitches and smiled as examined Prowl's face carefully. "Oh dear, Prowl. How did this happen?" When she didn't get an answer, she continued. "Well, it's not as bad as it could have been. Whoever you were arguing with took careful care not to cause any damage that might have a lasting effect. With the stitches, you'll heal up in about an hour."

"Good." Was all the Praxian said, and the femme took this as an invitation to start setting the nasal ridge back in place.

"Jazz?"

Looking up at the sound of his name, Jazz saw Ratchet motioning for him to go over to him. The saboteur hesitated, glancing at Prowl. The Praxian was wincing in pain as the femme medic fixed up his face.

"Jazz, I don't have all day. Come on."

"Alright, fine." Jazz muttered sulkily, sliding of the berth awkwardly due to his size.

"I will be over in a moment." Prowl managed to say through gritted denta.

Perking up a bit at that, the saboteur nodded and waddled over to where Ratchet was waiting at a medical machine. "What... what is that?"

"Do you want to see your sparkling?"

Jazz froze, optics wide as he stared at the machine. "Ah could.. Ah could see him?"

"Well, a scan of him. Do you want to?"

"Yes." The answer came out without thinking, but Jazz didn't take it back.

"Alright, lie down there then." Ratchet muttered, pointing to the medical berth beside him. "This'll take a minute or two to set up. I haven't seen one of these in years... I suppose I shouldn't be surprised Praxus has all of the equipment for sparklings and carriers, given that it's a neutral city state..."

Having tuned out, Jazz began staring over at Prowl and Tourniquet. He didn't like the way she was pressing against him like that. And Prowl seemed to be as oblivious as ever, which only seemed to encourage her. Jazz watched as she giggled at something the Praxian had said, and ran her hand gently over his arm as she applied the dissolvable stitches. Her petite doorwings fluttered flirtatiously, and Jazz found himself clenching his fists and glaring.

Noticing the change in his patient's manner, Ratchet curiously followed his gaze. His optic ridges rose when he saw what was setting Jazz on edge. "I wouldn't worry about her. Apparently she's been flirting with him every chance she's got, he hasn't noticed a thing. The other medics told me they've had bets on for how long it'll take her to give up. Same goes for Hightail, I'm told."

"What's t' stop him from goin' off with her though?"

"You." Ratchet answered, looking like that answer was the most obvious thing ever.

"Me? Look at me compared t' her. And we ain't bonded. Once this sparklin's born, Prowl could take off with no problem. He could go off wit' her, or Hightail, or some other good-lookin' bot with a great body."

"Jazz-" Ratchet cut himself off and shook his helm. "If that were the case, Prowl could have had Hightail in his berth a long time ago. He didn't, because he wanted you. Even when he didn't know about the sparkling."

Jazz remained decidedly quiet as Ratchet finished setting up the machine. When the medic turned around and set what looked like an x-ray over his swollen abdomen, he spoke up again. "D'you think he likes meh?"

Unable to help the laugh that burst out of his vocaliser, Ratchet finished preparing the scan and began tapping at the machine. "I think you should ask him that yourself. He's coming over now."

Startled, Jazz went to look up, only for Ratchet to push down on his chassis, snapping at him to stay still and lie down. Grudgingly doing as he was told, Jazz stayed still until Prowl walked into his line of sight. "Get fixed up?"

"I did." Barely visible stitches lined the edges of his nasal ridge, and the congealed energon had been wiped away. "Tourniquet did a good job."

A scowl briefly crossed Jazz's face, before it disappeared again. "Ratch said we could see the sparklin'."

"Yes." Ratchet interrupted. "This is a deep scan; it scans through several layers of protective protoform and into the gestation chamber. It uses magnetic pulses and soundwaves to form a picture of the sparkling's protoform, so the image will be a bit blurry."

A sudden burst of nerves shot through him, and Jazz found himself grabbing at Prowl's hand and clutching it to him. He nodded to show he was ready, and glanced up at Prowl. The tactician gave him a very small smile, and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Alright, here we go." Ratchet murmured as he initiated the scan.

The monitor flickered to life, and slowly formed a picture on-screen. Jazz clutched at the white hand in his grip even harder as the outline of the sparkling came into view. "Is that him?"

"It is."

The image was blurry and had no colour, but it was enough to see that the body was all curled up into itself, except for his little winglets, which fluttered lightly. The sparkling shifted slightly, as though he was aware he was being watched.

"He's so tiny." Jazz said, awed. "Why'm Ah so huge?"

"The doorwings." Prowl murmured, gazing at the monitor with much the same expression as Jazz. "He has a Praxian frame."

"Yeah.." A grin spread over Jazz's face as he gazed at his creation on the screen. "Look at the li'l cutie."

They stayed there until they lost track of time, just staring at the sparkling on-screen and enthusing over every little move he made.

Finally, Ratchet stepped forwards again and shrugged apologetically at them. "I'm afraid I have to turn the machine off before it overheats. It's not meant to be on for so long."

Disappointed, Jazz nodded and turned to look at Prowl as Ratchet freed him from the scanner. He realised he was still clutching at his hand and let go quickly. "So.. what did ya think?"

"I think that was wonderful." Prowl smiled fondly at the smaller mech's hugely distended torso. "We'll be able to see him in person soon enough."

"There we go." Ratchet grunted as he helped Jazz off the berth. He turned to address Prowl. "Take him back to your quarters and make sure he rests. Have you fragged him yet?"

Cringing internally at the crass language, Prowl simply nodded.

"Good. He doesn't need the extra additives in his energon then. Just normal mid-grade energon will do. Look after him!"

"Of course." Prowl murmured, nodding as he escorted Jazz to the door.

The smaller mech said nothing as they made their way down the corridor, simply gazing down at his gestation bump curiously. He stayed silent until they reached Prowl's quarters.

The Praxian's doorwings were the most relaxed Jazz had seen them in a long time, and he couldn't help running his hands over them and dipping his fingers into the seams.

Prowl sighed in contentment and fluttered his wings as he typed in the code for his door. The doors slid open and he stepped back to allow Jazz entrance first.

The carrying mech waddled in and made a beeline directly for the berth. "Ugh, Ah'm so tired." He exclaimed as he flopped down on the berth.

"I will get you your energon."

Jazz peered at Prowl as he hurried around the room, preparing the saboteur's energon. "What're ya doin'?"

"Heating your energon."

"Heatin' it? Why?"

"To make it taste better. Try it." Sitting on the edge of the berth, Prowl held out the cube.

Taking it and eyeing it curiously, Jazz hesitantly sipped at it. "Oh. It's good." He said in surprise, before draining the whole cube.

Smiling at the eagerness with which the cube was drank, Prowl took the empty cube and placed it on the berthside table, before stretching his wings out and lying down next to Jazz. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." The saboteur smiled, before leaning forwards and gently kissing the injured nasal ridge. "Ah'm sorry Ah had t' do that."

"No, don't be." Prowl murmured, "I did deserve it, like you said. You should rest now."

"Mmm.." Just as Jazz was relaxing into the berth, a knock came to the door and he groaned. "Seriously?"

"I will get it." The Praxian got to his pedes quickly and strode over to the door. As the door slid open, his wings flared out over his back to show his displeasure at being interrupted. "What is it?"

Curious as to who was at the door, Jazz sat up in the berth and craned his neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse.

"Sorry, but you weren't at your office, and I thought something was wrong-" Hightail's voice.

Jazz almost snorted; Prowl had forgotten to go back to work. That had to be a first.

"Nothing is wrong. I have things to do right now. My shift is over now and will not resume until tomorrow."

"I know, but you never finish work when your shift is over."

"Well, I am tonight. Goodbye, Hightail."

"Wait, wait, do you want me to go to the lecture this evening instead?"

A brief pause, then Prowl was nodding. "Yes. Give the professor my apologies and tell him that something came up."

"Okay..? What came up?"

Grinning, Jazz couldn't help but slip off the berth and waddle over to the door. He couldn't miss this chance. Cheerfully appearing behind Prowl's back, he waved at the other tactician. "Hi!"

The blue and purple mech stared at him in blank surprise. "I- what? Jazz?"

"Yup." He tilted his helm and beamed up at him. "How's it goin'?"

"Jazz arrived here a little while ago with Ratchet." Prowl answered the unasked question, frowning disapprovingly at Jazz's actions.

"Oh. Why is he in your quarters?"

"He shall be staying with me for the duration of his visit."

"Why? There's loads of room around the place. Nightline has loads of space in his quarters, I remember him saying so, and I'm pretty sure there are several empty quarters-"

"Enough, Hightail." Prowl said sternly, frowning at the other mech. "Jazz is the Third in Command, and thus he will be staying with the highest ranking officer."

Reluctantly falling silent, Hightail nodded stiffly. "Fine."

Jazz grinned cheerfully. "Ah'll see ya tomorrow!"

"Goodbye, Hightail." Prowl said firmly, closing the door as Hightail opened his mouth. He turned to the still grinning saboteur and shook his helm. "Your input was unnecessary."

"The look on his face was worth it."

"Go back to the berth." The tactician insisted, practically carrying the shorter mech back to the berth. He pushed at Jazz's chassis to get him to lie down on the berth. "Now recharge."

"Alright, Mr. Bossy." Rolling his optics from beneath his visor, Jazz pulled the taller mech down on the berth next to him. Exhausted, he curled up to the larger Praxian frame and offlined his optics. "Hope your nasal ridge is alright."

"It will be fine."

"Ah'll break it again if ya start actin' like an aft though."

"... I do not doubt it."


End file.
